


Photograph

by ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl, Spunky0ne



Category: Yuri!!! on ICE
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl/pseuds/ImaTastyPorkCutletBowl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spunky0ne/pseuds/Spunky0ne
Summary: Victor Nikiforov has been an inspiration to many, and the center of Yuuri Katsuki’s universe. But when a tragic accident steals him from everyone, how will their hearts break? And amidst the shock and sense of loss, will Yuuri and Victor’s friends realize that the spark they all clung to still burns somewhere? Can anyone find where Victor Nikiforov still skates for a mysterious captor, all alone in the darkness?





	1. Chapter 1

"Yuuri!" Victor's voice called from the hallway, "it's time to go."

Yuuri looked up from where he knelt at a low table in his and Victor's bedroom, a photograph of their wedding kiss held lightly between his fingertips.

"I'll be right there," he called back, turning the pages of a handsomely decorated notebook, past a treasure of pictures, each with a handwritten caption.

He set the picture in place and his eyes scanned the words he had added.

_The most beautiful day of our lives, taken at our wedding, when Victor carried out his promise to marry me after I won my first gold medal. To honor the love that helped us to reach that place, we gathered our family and friends around us in a circle as we shared that precious moment._

A contented smile graced his lips as he studied the photo more closely, registering the faces and expressions of each of their friends.

_Yurio and Otabek, Chris, Phichit, Yakov and Celestino…_

His smile faded slightly as he spotted a man on the edges of the circle, whose face looked wholly unfamiliar to him, and whose expression radiated an odd aggressiveness. He looked youthful and athletic, much like the rest of their friends.

_But I don't remember him being among the top skaters, Yuuri mused, studying the handsome, angular look of his face, the wavy, meticulously styled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, I would definitely remember him if I had seen him before. Maybe he came with one of the guests. There were a few of our friends who brought guests, but then, why don't I remember him at all?_

"Yuuri?" Victor called, breaking him out of his reverie.

Yuuri blinked and shook his head, then closed the notebook, reorienting on what was going on around him.

Victor stepped into the room as Yuuri stood and started towards the doorway.

"What are you doing?" his amused partner asked, giving him a look of mingled exasperation and affection, "The limousine is waiting."

"Sorry," Yuuri said sheepishly, "I only meant to add a picture to my memory book, but I guess I kind of got lost in it."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Victor chuckled, slipping an arm around him as the two left the room, "We really need to go. There's fashionably late, and then, there's just plain late."

"Sorry," Yuuri said, blushing.

"It's okay," Victor said, giving him a good natured wink, "You look so beautiful right now, once they see you, they'll forget about how long they waited."

"Victor!" Yuuri objected, his blush darkening.

"Come on," Victor urged him, nudging him out the front door of their home.

The limousine driver, a tall, young man with striking angular features, a stylish driving cap, dark, slicked back hair and dark sunglasses, exited the vehicle and moved to the back to open the door for the two.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Katsuki, Mr. Nikiforov," he greeted them in Russian, reaching up to touch his cap lightly.

"Thank you…um…" Yuuri said, frowning as he realized he didn't recognize the driver.

"Kazimir," the young man answered, looking back at Yuuri through his dark sunglasses.

"Usually, they send Feliks for us," Victor commented, rubbing his chin for a moment.

"Feliks became unwell, shortly before he was supposed to leave, and I was the only driver available to replace him, at the time," Kazimir explained, continuing to speak to the two in Russian, "I hope that does not present a problem for you."

Yuuri blinked and frowned in confusion.

"It's fine," Victor answered in English, "But, if you are able, Kazimir, can you speak to us in English? Yuuri is learning to speak Russian, but we are both fluent in English, so that is what we usually use in conversation."

"Of course," Kazamir replied, shifting to English, "Just let me know if you need anything, sirs."

"Thank you, Kazimir," Victor said amiably.

The driver took his place in the front of the limousine and he pulled away from the curb, following the instructions on the car's GPS. He stole quiet glances at the rearview mirror, which also gave him a clear view of the two men in the back of the vehicle.

"I was looking at your memory book the other day," Victor said conversationally, "You've done such a beautiful job with it. Do you think you could make one like it for your parents and for mine?"

Yuuri's brown eyes widened and he made a sound of surprise.

"Y-you like it that much, Victor? You think they'd like it too?"

"I love it, Yuuri. And of course they're going to like it," Victor laughed, "You've captured some of our most beautiful moments. And you and I aren't the only ones who want to remember."

Yuuri's face lit and his smile brightened.

"It was a really great wedding, wasn't it?"

"It was perfect," Victor agreed, leaning over to kiss him.

One kiss led to another, and within moments, the two were deeply involved in each other's warm, hungry mouths. Yuuri caught sight of their driver's face in the rearview mirror and felt heat on his face and throat.

_With those dark sunglasses on him, I can't tell if he might be watching us. It makes me uncomfortable._

"V-victor," he objected, turning his head away and sitting up straight, "we're almost to the station. I don't want to be flustered and blushing all through the interview!"

"Sorry, you just make me lose it a little with how beautiful you look in that new suit and tie."

"You look great too," Yuuri complimented him, ducking another attempt at a kiss, "Victor!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Victor laughed, "I can't help it. You seduce me without even trying."

"You can kiss me as much as you want when we get home," Yuuri laughed, "Just let me catch my breath so I can answer the interviewer's questions. I'm anxious enough as it is."

"You could let me kiss you breathless and I could answer their questions," Victor offered, teasing Yuuri's flushed lips again.

"Th-then, why even have me there if I'm…V-victor, stop it…if I'm not going to t-talk!" Yuuri giggled.

"Yuuri," Victor purred into his ear, "your body sings, even when you aren't saying a word!"

"Victor," Yuuri managed, his heart melting and his comely face scrunching with helpless joy.

"Don't tear up," Victor chided him, removing a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at the damp corners of Yuuri's eyes, "Your nose will turn red."

"Well, don't say things like that if you don't want me to cry," Yuuri scolded him.

"We are here, sirs," the driver informed them, as he pulled up to the curb in front of the television station.

He climbed out and opened the door for the two, waiting quietly as they exited, then closing the door behind them.

"We will be finished in a couple of hours," Victor told the driver, "I will inform you if we run late."

"Sir."

Kazimir walked around the car and returned to the driver's seat, pausing for a moment to watch as Victor looped an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, then the two walked into the TV station. He pulled the car away from the curb and moved it to a nearby parking lot to wait. He turned the engine off, but left the car's radio on and pulled his cell phone out. Touching several buttons, he checked his work messages, then activated an Earth view program. He typed in a few words, then zoomed in on the map in front of him, honing in on an area of curvy road and studying one particular drop off closely.

_A quiet, lightly traveled road._

_No guard rail._

_A vicious drop into swift, deep, icy water._

_A hidden car waiting._

He nodded approvingly and closed the application, then he set his phone down and sat back in his seat, relaxing and listening to the radio as he waited.

_Soon, Victor…_

XXXXXXXXXX

"I don't know about you," Victor sighed, reaching an arm around Yuuri and giving him a squeeze, "but interviews make me hungry."

"Everything makes you hungry," Yuuri chuckled as the two walked down the corridor leading to the TV station's entrance, "Ever since you came to coach me in Hasetsu."

"What can I say?" Victor said good naturedly, "Before coming to be your coach, all I really thought about was making new programs and skating. Between choreographing, arranging for the music and learning the routines, I didn't have much time for enjoying other things."

"Well, I don't know how you're able to do all of that now, coach me, and still have so much energy."

Victor gave him a melting smile.

"I get to share with the ice with you and watch you skate every day. The beautiful music your body makes when you skate refreshes me when I feel tired. I never had that before I met you."

Yuuri's heart skipped almost painfully, and his hand clutched at his chest for a moment.

"I'm glad," he said softly, pressing up against his husband's side as the two exited the TV station and headed for the waiting limousine, "I owe you for everything you've done for me."

"Well, I have to be honest," Victor confessed, "What made me go to Hasetsu wasn't just watching you skate, Yuuri. More than anything, I wanted to compete with the skater I saw in that video. The whole time I was with you, I wasn't just helping you…I was intent on that."

Yuuri grinned.

"And how is the reality?" he asked as the car pulled out, onto the main street and melted into the evening traffic, "I hope I've lived up to what you were hoping for."

Victor's warm hand curved around Yuuri's soft cheek.

"You are everything I ever dreamed, and you are more."

He sighed sleepily and looked out into the night sky.

"I think that the program we made together for you for this season is the best one yet, Yuuri. I can't wait for the season to begin."

"Neither can I."

Victor sucked in a deep breath.

"I'm really hungry."

"You can't wait until we get home?"

"No. I'll faint from hunger before we get there."

He glanced into the front of the limousine.

"Kazimir, do you mind if we take a detour and Yuuri and I have dinner? You can drop us off and send for a new driver if that doesn't work for you."

"It's fine, Mr. Nikiforov," the driver assured him, "There is a new restaurant at the top of Old Grade Hill. I've heard it's very good, sir."

"Why don't you join us and we'll try it together?" Victor suggested.

The driver smiled.

"Thank you, sir. I would like that," he answered, turning the car off of the highway and starting up a quieter inclining road, "I will just need to radio in and let the dispatcher know where we are stopping. Give me a moment, please."

He pushed a button on the dashboard, and a window rose between the front and rear of the car. Looking quietly into the mirror, Kazimir slipped a hand into his coat pocket and pressed the button on a small remote. Noting the waning light outside the car, he removed his glasses and continued up the hill, his eyes watching closely as the two men in the back of the limousine swayed and blinked in confusion, their eyes glazing over as they were gradually overcome. Victor's body slumped against the door of the car, and Yuuri collapsed partially on top of him.

Kazimir pulled the car to the side of the road and moved to the door on Yuuri's side of the car. He pulled the door opened and leaned in. Yuuri's hand grabbed his wrist and he gasped in dismay at the cold expression the driver wore. He squinted, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Yuuri panted dazedly.

Kazimir's blue eyes went deadly.

"You're too much trouble. I was just going to send you over the edge in the car, but you require a more personal approach."

Kazimir's arm took hold of Yuuri and he dragged the struggling skater out of the car, ignoring his weak objections. He dragged the young man to the edge of the cliff and pushed him over, watching as Yuuri's body tumbled down the incline and disappeared into the brush that preceded the large drop Kazimir had seen.

As Yuuri's body passed out of sight, one slender hand caught for a moment on a gnarled bush, stopping his fall and dropping him onto a ledge. He struck the ledge with stunning force, and everything went mercifully black.

Still at the top of the hill, Kazimir carefully covered the signs left in the dirt, then he looked around, listening carefully and hearing no approaching vehicles. He quickly removed Victor's collapsed body from the car and shoved him into a patch of brush at the edge of the road. He returned to the limousine and set the car in gear, running it to the edge and sending it over.

He watched with aroused eyes as the car rolled off the cliff and fell, soundlessly at first, then crashing into a boulder and sending up a bright fireball and cloud of black smoke before it splashed into the deep, fast moving water and was swept away.

The sound of an approaching car spooked the driver, and he ducked into the brush, where Victor laid unconscious. The car slowed and through the bushes, Kazimir could see the driver staring at the plume of smoke that floated up from where the car had fallen. The driver of the car stopped on the shoulder and emerged, walking to the edge and looking down, frowning worriedly.

"Damn it!" Kazimir hissed, shaking his head as the other man removed a cell phone and dialed quickly.

He lifted Victor's limp body into his arms and fled down a small trail he had planned to use to escape to his hidden car. He reached the car and swiftly placed Victor in the trunk, then drove quickly down the hill, taking the fastest route back to the freeway.

_Finally now, Victor._

_Finally, you are mine alone._

_Now, Victor Nikiforov, you…will only skate for me!_


	2. Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yakov and some of Victor and Yuuri's friends deal with the devastating news as Victor's captor lays out his plans.

Kazimir slowed his car as he reached the entrance to an old, dilapidated building in a poor, rundown section of town, south of central Saint Petersburg. He stopped at the broken front gate, looking around to make sure that he was alone, then he exited the car and opened the gate. He returned to the car and drove inside, then closed and locked the gate behind him. He turned the car's lights off and proceeded by moonlight to the covered area he had made to hide the vehicle. Once inside the makeshift carport, he slid a metal sheet across the entrance, concealing the car from view.

He moved around to the back of the car, and immediately heard thumping sounds and a muffled male voice shouting. He scowled at the sound and returned to the driver's seat of the car, where he touched a button he had installed under the dash. He heard a little hissing noise and gradually the thumping and shouting quieted. He waited until the person in the trunk was still, then he opened the trunk slowly and found Victor collapsed again and sleeping deeply. He moved carefully, threading his fingers into the skater's thick bangs and yanking his head back, watching for any sign of a reaction. Seeing none, he lifted the unconscious man into his arms and carried him up a set of cracked steps, through a doorway with doors that barely clung to the frame, and into an old, forgotten skating rink. He paused for a moment, looking into the recently restored rink.

"You have no idea how much work it was, getting this place up and running on the inside, setting it up so that it works, but no one can see from the outside. I even had to find a way to provide the power I needed without it being obvious. Yes, I went to a lot of work, Victor…all to bring you back here. I wonder if you'll even remember being here before."

He looked down at Victor's limp body and huffed softly.

"Don't worry. If you can't remember, I'll remind you. See, I haven't forgotten, Victor. I…remember everything."

His blue eyes looked into the gently lit ice rink, admiring the restoration job, then sinking back in time for a moment.

_"Pasha!" his coach snapped, "Mind your free leg!"_

_His teeth gritted in reaction to the harsh reprimand, but he knew better than to complain. Even as young as he was, he was well aware that professional coaches had plenty of choices about which skaters they could train. He held his free leg more carefully, earning a satisfied grunt from the skating coach. The sound of someone skating to join him made Pasha stop and turn slightly, and he found himself looking at a teen boy barely older than him who had bright blue-green eyes and the most unusual long, silvery hair._

_I know him!_

_"Victor Nikiforov?" he whispered in shock, "What are you doing here?"_

_"There was a fire at my home rink," Victor explained cheerfully, slowing to a stop in front of Pasha, "I'll be here for a month or so, until they fix it. I guess that makes us rink mates for awhile."_

_"I'm Pasha," the smaller, blonde youth introduced himself, "It's nice to meet you, Victor."_

_I'm a big fan of Victor's. He's the reason I started skating. I never thought I would even meet him!_

_"It's nice to meet you too, Pasha," Victor answered, "I'll be seeing you around."_

_Victor skated back to his waiting coach, who looked around the small rink and made a dissatisfied sound._

_"I can't believe they couldn't find anything better than this…ridiculous!"_

_"Oh, don't be so grouchy, Yakov!" Victor laughed, turning and skating away backwards._

_His skate caught on a small rough patch, and the usually graceful skater started to fall. Pasha swept forward and caught his arm, steadying him._

_"Watch out," the younger boy said, smiling, "There are a few bad places they just can't seem to fix. I'll show you where they are, so you won't hit them when you practice."_

_"Thanks," Victor laughed, blushing._

_"How do the poor kids here manage to skate without breaking a leg!" Yakov shouted, "Don't worry, Victor. We will get this fixed. Come off the ice now."_

_"Don't worry so much," Victor said off-handedly, "Pasha knows where the rough spots are. And I need to practice."_

_"Stubborn ass," Yakov muttered, scowling, "It will serve you right if you break something!"_

"I won't tell you my real name yet. Let's see how long it takes you to remember," Kazimir suggested to his sleeping captive, "We have plenty of time, Victor. We have the rest of our lives."

He carried Victor around the side of the rink, to a set of offices that he had remade into two rooms. He carried Victor into one of them and laid him down on the cot in the room.

"It's hard to believe you're finally here," he said in a slightly shaking voice, "Victor finally came back, and this time, you will stay, won't you?"

He bound the unconscious skater's slender wrists to an iron bar he had fixed securely in the wall, then bound his feet to a second metal fixture he had placed at the foot of the bed. He leaned over the restrained man, removing an odd looking device that he laid over Victor's closed eyes, sealing it carefully to the pale flesh.

"You won't want to try to remove this, unless you want to mess up your beautiful face, Victor," he warned the skater, "I can remove it later, after you've come around, but I don't want you trying to get away while I sleep or something. You'll be out for awhile. I'm going to shower and make some food for us. I will be back."

He left Victor sleeping soundly and headed for the restored locker room.

XXXXXXXXXX

Otabek stirred and grunted sleepily as the phone next to the bed started to ring, and Yuri Plisetsky's slim hand reached over him to grab the receiver.

"What the hell do you want? Do you know what goddamned time it is, Yakov?" he snapped, "This had better be important!"

"This is no joke," Yakov said in a low, dispirited voice that Yuri had never heard his coach use before, "Yuri, Vitya is dead."

The receiver dropped from Yuri's hand, making Otabek sit up and loop an arm around him as he reached down to pick it up off the floor. Yuri stared blindly at the phone in his hand for a moment as Yakov's voice called his name several times.

"Ya, I hear you," he managed finally, "You'd better be kidding. You're not serious, right?"

"I'm afraid I am," Yakov continued.

"I don't want to hear this, damn it!" Yuri hissed, "Tell me you're making this up!"

"I wish that I was," Yakov answered, his voice breaking, "Vitya and Yuuri were coming back from the interview tonight and their limo went off the edge of a cliff."

"What?" Yuri whispered, his slim body shivering, "Pork cutlet bowl is dead too?"

"No," Yakov explained, "They aren't sure how…whether he was thrown out as the car went over the edge or if he jumped out, or was pushed out. They found him on a ledge. He's hurt pretty badly, but he's alive and he's awake. I just left him to call you. He says he doesn't remember anything about what happened. He remembers leaving the TV station in the limo with Vitya, then nothing more. We haven't told him about Vitya yet, only that the search for him is continuing. His doctor told me that he may or may not remember more later."

"Yakov, you said the car went over the cliff," Yuri said through clenched teeth, "Did they find it yet?"

"I heard that they did. They found it in the river, about a mile downstream. There were no bodies, but it was certain that anyone in the car would have died. They are still searching, but they don't expect to find anyone alive."

"But they don't know he's dead, right?"

"They found his cell phone in the wreckage."

"That doesn't prove anything!" Yuri yelled, "You tell me where they're searching. I'll go and look too!"

"They can't search anymore tonight. It's too dangerous in that area. Too much of a chance of rock slides. They're going to continue looking in the morning."

"But if Victor's hurt and waiting out there…!"

"They've flown a helicopter over the area and there was no sign of anyone. Yuri, there isn't anything you can do. You need to rest. The media will be all over us in the morning."

"I don't give a damn about that!" Yuri raged, "I want to know, okay? I want to know for sure!"

He made a sound of disgust and ended the call as Yakov tried to answer. Otabek kept an arm around Yuri and squeezed his hand.

"Something very bad happened, didn't it? Something happened to Victor and Yuuri?"

Yuri huffed out an agitated breath.

"Their limo went off a cliff," Yuri said in a low, disbelieving voice, "They found pork cutlet bowl alive, but he doesn't remember anything about the accident. They didn't find Victor or the driver, but they found Victor's cell phone in the wreck."

Yuri stiffened and a rebellious look came into his eyes.

"I'm going to go there," he hissed angrily, "I'm going to go and look for him!"

"It's really late," Otabek said, quietly but firmly, "Where did it happen?"

"Up a hillside, near a cliff on the way back from the TV station. The car ended up in the river."

"I know that area. I've been through there," Otabek said, keeping his voice calm, "There are a lot of drop offs, and this late at night, we won't be able to see where it happened. It's only a few hours until it will be light. I will go with you as soon as it is light outside, okay?"

Yuri went rigid, his eyes and nostrils flaring indignantly, but as he read the honest concern on Otabek's face, he took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Fine, but I'm not going to be able to sleep."

"It's fine," the elder skater said solemnly, folding both arms around Yuri and holding him against a strong shoulder, "Just rest as much as you can."

XXXXXXXXXX

Yuuri laid on his back in his hospital bed, his distraught brown eyes staring up at the ceiling.

"Why can't I remember?" he whispered desperately, "Victor…Victor, where are you?"

_No one will tell me anything about Victor!_

Yuuri's eyes filled with tears.

_I know what that means._

_Either they haven't found him, or they have and Victor is…! No! No, that's not going to happen! Victor is hurt, or he'd be here, but he's not…Victor isn't…_

"I thought I told you to try to sleep," Yakov scolded him in a tired voice as the skating coach entered the room.

"Has there been any word about Victor?" Yuuri asked, turning his head to look at Yakov, then loosing a sound of torment.

He called Victor's name again in a ragged voice, then his eyes glazed over and he began to lose consciousness. Yakov sat down beside the bed and slipped a comforting hand into his.

"Go to sleep, Yuuri. Get what rest you can."

Yuuri only managed to sleep fitfully, waking every few minutes to throbs of intense pain that radiated all over his abused body. Yakov scowled and left the room, looking around outside of the room until he found a nurse.

"Yuuri is in unbearable pain. Can't you give him something yet?" he asked, "The boy needs to rest."

"I'm sorry," the nurse apologized, "but he has a head injury, and we need to be sure that we can rouse him periodically."

"You don't need to rouse him!" Yakov snapped, "He wakes up practically screaming every few minutes! I'll wake him as often as you want, just do something so he isn't hurting to damned badly!"

"I'll call a doctor to examine him and see what we can do for him," the nurse promised.

Yakov looked ready to argue, but he let out an impatient breath and returned to the room, where he found Yuuri awake again and staring up at the ceiling, and panting softly in distress.

"V-victor?" he called feverishly.

A doctor entered the room and leaned over Yuuri, quickly examining him, then motioning to the nurse, who gave him an injection. She watched alongside the doctor as the medication made his body slowly relax.

"This will take the edge off the pain without reducing his level of consciousness," the doctor explained to Yakov, "His mind will be foggy, so he won't be so focused on asking questions."

"That should help," Yakov sighed, settling at Yuuri's side again and watching as his eyes blinked slowly and faded in and out of focus, "He needs to take care of himself right now. There is nothing he can do for Vitya."

"Wh-what are you doing?" Yuuri whispered weakly, "What are you doing?"

He drifted off, still whispering incoherently.

"Yakov," a woman's voice called from the doorway.

Yakov's eyes rotated to the door and found Georgi and Mila entering the room.

"What are you two doing here?" the skating coach asked gruffly, his voice betraying an edge of sympathy, "You have practice in the morning."

"I don't think there will be any practice," Georgi projected, "Not with every TV station parked outside the skating rink and the mountains of flowers that are showing up there for Victor and Yuuri."

"We saw for ourselves on the way over," Mila added, her eyes tearing, "The owners had to set up some security to keep everything orderly."

"Vitya is a skating legend," Yakov said solemnly, "and half the world has fallen in love with the two of them."

"Well, if many more flowers come, the rink will be buried in them," Georgi said, shaking his head, "That is a lot of love."

"I need to go to the rink and speak to the owners about what to do," Yakov said, standing, "Can the two of you sit with Yuuri until I come back?"

"We'll stay," Mila promised.

Yakov nodded approvingly.

"Don't talk to him about Vitya. If he wakes up and asks about him, just say that the search is still going on, and that someone will come to update him soon. He doesn't have much sense of time, with how they are drugging him to lessen the pain, but he does wake up sometimes. Make sure the doctors keep on top of his pain."

"We will," Georgi promised.

"Yuuri's family has been notified, and his sister is coming, along with another friend. They can take over sitting with Yuuri as soon as they arrive."

Yakov paused and let out a sigh.

"I want to warn you also not to speak to the press about what you know," he warned the two."

"Well," Georgi said, shrugging, "we don't really know anything that other people don't know already, so we won't be much help."

"Yakov," Mila said suddenly, her voice filled with tension, "I've just had a thought. With all of the people camping out and sending flowers to the rink, do you think people are showing up at Victor and Yuuri's home too?"

"They are," Yakov affirmed, "But I notified the group that provides our security, and they are watching the house and sending anyone who shows up there to the skating rink. There should be no problem there."

"That's good," Mila sighed, "Sometimes people get sort of crazy…"

"People forget their manners sometimes," Yakov said, lowering his eyes, "when these things happen. But, we will watch out for them…Yuuri and Vitya."


	3. First Skate: In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor learns his captor's plans...

The first sensation that reached through the pitch blackness around Victor Nikiforov was an icy chill that seemed to penetrate his entire body. He would have curled into a ball beneath the poor blanket that covered him, but moving his frozen, aching arms and legs quickly revealed to him that he had been securely bound in a position that offered him no shelter from the dread chill around him.

_So cold…_

He tried to remember where he had last been and only recalled being in a limousine, holding Yuuri against him and feeling a heavy drowse stealing over his body.

_What happened?_

_Where am I?_

_Where is Yuuri?_

_Why can't I see anything? I think my eyes are open, but…_

He could feel something had been adhered to the skin around his eyes and over the bridge of his nose, but the binding on his wrists and the way his body was stretched out and restrained, prevented him from exploring with his hands. He was tempted to call out, but deemed it wiser to continue to assess his situation before drawing the attention of his captor. Deprived of vision and the ability to move, he listened carefully. His ears picked up a steady, soft electric humming and the distant sound of water running.

"Yuuri?" he breathed softly.

He listened more carefully for any sound of movement near him, or the passage of breath, but picked up nothing that hinted at his husband being nearby.

_What did this person…or these people…do to Yuuri? Where is he? Did they hurt him? Is he in another room?_

The sound of the running water faded away, and Victor heard the little sounds of someone moving around in a nearby room.

_Who is that?_

He heard intermittent sounds of slightly echoing footsteps, a few clanging sounds and occasional thumps and scrapes. Nothing that reached his ears gave any clue to where he might be or who might have taken him there. After an extended length of time, he heard approaching footsteps that sent a shiver through his already icy body. He forced himself to go limp, still listening as the person he couldn't see, entered the room, approached him in unhurried steps, then set something down near him. The cot he laid on, moved as someone sat down beside him and began to remove his bonds.

"I know you're awake," a man's voice said, the familiar sound of it jolting Victor inside.

"Kazimir?" he breathed, his heart pounding, "The driver?"

"Huh," he captor huffed, mocking him, "It's just like a stuck up, rich boy to only look at what's on the surface, isn't it, Victor? Why don't you try again?"

Victor frowned at the insult, but forced himself to focus on the man's words.

"So, you are not really a driver," he concluded, "You somehow fooled the limousine company?"

"Oh, I am a driver, although, I guess I'm not one anymore, since everyone thinks I'm dead."

"What?"

"They think you're dead too," the man's voice teased.

His captor moved closer, leaning over to breathe his next words into Victor's ear.

"It was a terrible accident…so violent. The limo exploded as it tumbled down the cliff. It fell into the river below. Do you know? They haven't found any bodies."

"Where is Yuuri?" Victor demanded, "Where is my husband?"

He didn't need his eyes to know his captor was smiling.

"I think I'll keep that information to myself," the other man answered, "Consider it motivation for you to behave yourself and to pay attention. I didn't bring you here on a whim."

"Clearly," Victor said dryly, "What is it you want?"

For a moment, his captor said nothing, then he let out a little tensed breath.

"I want to skate with you again, Victor."

"And it never occurred to you to just ask?" Victor said, a sarcastic edge in his voice, "You had us right there with you. Do you really think I'm that stupid? If all you wanted was to skate with me, you could have done that. But, all of this…the betrayal of trust, faking my death, separating me from Yuuri and refusing to tell me where he is…all of that tells me this is about more than skating. Why don't you just tell me who you really are and what you're after?"

"We'll get to that," his captor assured him, "But, first things first. You need to understand there are rules, Victor. If you want to stay alive and you don't want me to hurt you, then you will do exactly as I tell you."

"Actually, I'm not very good at following directions, especially the directions of people who fake my death and tie me up. Usually, people like that don't keep their promises, so I'm not at all reassured that cooperating with you will protect me."

"It won't, to be honest," his captor chuckled, patting Victor's cheek, "but you're in luck, I didn't bring you here to torture you or to kill you, at least, not right away."

"Well," Victor said saucily, "while we're on the subject, why did you bring me here? Not that I'm not appreciating the extreme effort you've gone to, to make me feel helpless and to terrify me, but, as you can probably anticipate, I'm worried about Yuuri. I don't think I'm going to be able to focus on anything until I know he's all right. So, if he's here, why don't you let me see him? And if he's not, just give me some proof he's alive. Otherwise, I am not going to care what you do or say. I won't be able to focus at all."

His captor made a little sound of amusement.

"You never change, Victor," he said, smirking, "All right. I guess if I want you to cooperate with me, I'll need to be a little bit charitable. Listen carefully."

The man tapped at his cell phone for a few moments, then held it near Victor's ear to let him listen.

_"Flowers and small gifts continue to pour in, adding to the growing monument honoring missing figure skating legend, Victor Nikiforov and his injured husband, Yuuri Katsuki."_

_"Has there been any word from the hospital, Mooroka?"_

_"There have been no new updates. We have only been told that Yuuri Katsuki is in serious, but stable condition, and that he is still undergoing treatment."_

Victor sighed softly in relief.

"Understand that I can slip into that hospital at any time and kill him. No one suspects foul play. Everyone's convinced you and I are dead. It would be easy for me to get to him."

"You can stop threatening Yuuri," Victor said quietly, "Just tell me what you want."

"I told you. I want to skate with you."

"You want me to skate with you," Victor repeated, "Fine. Tell me your rules."

"Good, now pay attention. The rules are important, and if you break them, there will be consequences. First, don't try to uncover your eyes. The eye covering is bonded to your skin and you will mutilate your face if you try to get it off without the chemical to break the bond."

"You want me to skate blind?" Victor reasoned, "Are you wanting me to injure myself? I can't skate in an unfamiliar place without using my eyes…or is that the point? You want me to be unsure of myself?"

"Well, I do need to maintain some advantages," his captor informed him, "You're a well trained skater. I'm sure you'll adjust."

"So, we will be skating now?" Victor asked, "I hope you have a jacket or something for me. I'm already nearly frozen, here."

"The exercise will warm you up," the other man said, off-handedly.

"If you don't want me to pull a muscle or something and ruin your little fantasy of skating with me, you'd better remember that I am older and I…"

Victor's breath caught and he went silent for a moment as his captor's hand grabbed him roughly by the front of his shirt.

"Stop acting like you have any choice!" the man hissed, dropping a pair of skates in his lap, "Put those skates on. Do it now, or I will make you sorry."

"Okay, fine," Victor said, frowning and shaking his head.

_I'm getting the feeling this isn't about me, Victor mused inwardly, What is he not saying to me? He does want to skate with me, but there's a reason he went to all of this effort, even using violence. What is he going for, here?_

His hands touched the skates in his lap and his frown deepened.

"Where did you get these skates?" he asked disapprovingly, "I'm pretty sure they're not regulation skates. I'd even say that it could be dangerous to use them."

_This is strange. Limousine drivers make decent money. And even if he couldn't afford them, as a criminal, he could have stolen better ones. Why these? Is the point that he wants me to injure myself? What is he thinking here?_

"Put them on," his captor said coldly.

Victor gave a discomfited sigh, but quietly complied.

"What now?"

He felt the other man's hand slide into his, and he was led out of the room, then a short distance away, where the electric whine he'd been hearing grew louder, and he felt the coldness of an ice rink send fresh shivers through his thinly dressed body.

"Just asking, but what did you do with my clothes? I had a decent coat with me, or is it that you want me to be cold?"

"Yes," his captor growled softly, "I want you to be cold."

_The exertion will warm my body, but if I don't put on something warm after, I'll feel even colder. So, is the point that he wants to hurt me that way? Or is he saying something else?_

Victor remained quiet as he was led to the ice and stepped on, with his captor remaining close at his side.

"This rink is standard sized, so you can imagine the dimensions. I'll take you to the center and orient you towards the judges. Warm up, then we'll start with your last free skate."

"My last free skate?" Victor repeated in a doubtful tone, "Look, whoever you are, I'm not trying to be purposely disobedient, but you do realize that if I try to perform on these skates, in this rink, without being able to see…"

"I am fully aware of that," Kazimir said shortly, "But let me ask you, Victor, are you fully aware?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Victor asked, moving with his captor as the man led him to the center of the rink, "I've just told you that I am freezing in the thin clothes you replaced mine with, I am on skates that will probably get me injured, and I can't see, so I have no idea if maybe you're playing with me, so I'll be purposely run into walls. I am at a complete disadvantage and I know that. How am I seeming unaware?"

"It's your job to figure that out," his captor said sternly, "The clock begins ticking now. You are going to practice and perform each of your past programs, moving in reverse order, first each free skate, then each short program. As you skate, you will try to figure out who I am. You have until we reach the first of your programs to do that."

Victor frowned.

"Or…?" he prompted the other man.

"Or, when you are done, I am going to tell you my name…as I kill you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Yuuri sat, pale faced and silent, propped with pillows in his hospital bed, with Mari and Minako stationed at his side. A nurse entered the room and removed the bandage that was wrapped around the injured skater's head. She leaned over him to clean the wound, smiling sadly as Yuuri flinched and gritted his teeth.

"I know that hurts," she acknowledged, "but the wound is very clean and looking better today. Docter Martin wants to keep you another night, but you should be able to go home in the morning.

_I don't want to go home!_ Yuuri screamed in his mind, _How can I go home? It's not home without Victor._

His eyes filled with tears and he felt Minako's hand squeeze his.

"You don't have to go home, if you don't want to, Yuuri," she assured him, seeming to read his thoughts.

"We got a suite at the hotel, so Minako and I can share one room and you can have the other."

_Who is taking care of Maccachin?_

"Maccachin," he whispered barely audibly.

"Maccachin is with Otabek and Yurio," Mari answered, "He's fine."

_He won't be, once he realizes that Victor isn't coming back._

_Why is everyone still not admitting it? They all think Victor is dead. I know they do. And I don't know why he wouldn't have made contact with us if he could. So, either he's in a really bad situation, or he's…just…gone._

_What do I do now?_

Yuuri's breath caught as he realized that the detective leading the accident investigation was entering his room. He looked up at the man expectantly, waiting breathlessly.

"Hello, Yuuri," the detective greeted him.

Yuuri nodded warily, swallowing hard as he tried to read the man's expression.

"My team has finished a thorough investigation of both the place where the car exited the road, and the place, downstream, where we found it. I had a few questions and I wanted to discuss a few things with you."

"I don't know how much he'll be able to tell you," Minako said solemnly, "He's only said a few words all day, and he still doesn't remember anything about the accident."

"Okay, well, I'll just give it a shot, because we don't have a lot of leads at this point, and Yuuri is the only one we have here who was there when the accident happened."

He looked down into Yuuri's damp eyes.

"It's okay if you feel like you can't answer. I just want to try, okay?" the man asked.

Yuuri shivered and nodded tentatively.

"Okay, my investigation of the cliff area revealed a few strange scuffs, near the edge of the cliff. Of course, I can't tell for sure if they were made during the event or not, but if they were, we could be looking at something that's not an accident. Yuuri, can you tell me if you remember anything about that? Did the car stop before it went over the edge? Did someone take you out of the car? Were you pushed over the edge?"

Yuuri gazed back at him helplessly.

_I don't know!_

_I don't remember!_

_Everything after leaving the TV station is a blur!_

_I remember talking about dinner, maybe? I remember Victor's arms holding me. Then, everything just goes kind of blank…_

_Why can't I remember?_

"I'm s-sorry," he said in a trembling voice.

"It's not your fault," the detective reassured him, "I want to ask you about something else. There were signs of someone walking on a trail, not too far from the cliff. Do you remember seeing anyone in the area on your way up?"

"No."

"Do you recall anything at all that seemed unusual, occurring in the time periods that you do remember?"

"N-no, nothing."

Yuuri frowned, closing his eyes for a moment.

"We did have a different driver."

The detective nodded.

"Kazimir Konin," he acknowledged, "The limousine company confirmed that your usual driver became ill, and they assigned Kazimir to the job. He has been with the company for a year, and has had no prior accidents or disciplinary incidents."

"Will you please tell me, Officer Kirillov," Yuuri said softly, "Have they found Victor?"

"No," the detective replied, shaking his head, "We have not found them, although we did find a torn article of clothing in the water. We're not sure if it belings to either of them."

He removed a plastic bag from a large coat pocket and removed the item, and Yuuri made an agonized sound.

"Victor's scarf," he managed in a choked voice, his heart pounding painfully in his chest and fresh tears rising in his eyes, "Be honest with me. You think he's dead, don't you?"

"I honestly don't know," the detective admitted, "But, given that he had no reason not to let everyone know he survived, and that we've done several flyovers and closer searches. We got no hits with our service dogs. I'm sorry, Mr. Katsuki, we just don't know what happened, but it is likely that he and the driver were killed, and the river swept them away."

Yuuri's jaw stiffened and tears ran in streams down his face, but he nodded and took a steadying breath.

"Thank you for being honest with me."

"We are still searching, Mr. Katsuki. If they can be found, we will find them."

"Thank you," Yuuri whispered dispiritedly, "I know you will."


	4. Close to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri struggles to recover well enough to look for Victor, while Victor makes a daring attempt to escape his captor.

Yuuri looked up through hazy eyes as Minako and Mari said their goodbyes before leaving the room, then two young men walked in and sat down in the seats the women had abandoned. He blinked and squinted, gradually bringing the men's faces into focus.

"Y-yurio? Otabek?" he whispered dazedly, "Why are you here?"

"Why are we here?" Yurio repeated, scowling, "Why do you think we're here, pork cutlet bowl? You're hurt, and your sister and Minako needed a break, so they're taking a break and watching Maccachin and we're here looking out for you, okay?"

"Eh, thanks?" Yuuri said uncertainly, "But, wh-where's Victor? They said they were searching."

Yurio and Otabek exchanged glances and Otabek shook his head very slightly.

"They haven't found Victor yet," Otabek said solemnly.

"How long has it been since…"

"Stop asking so many questions!" Yurio snapped, pulling a bed table over from behind him, "The nurse was in a few minutes ago and left some food for you. Eat."

Yuuri blinked and tried to focus on the plate in front of him. He reached for his fork, only to knock it off of the tray and into his lap. Yurio's teeth clenched, but he picked up the fork and wiped it with a napkin before setting it in Yuuri's hand. Yuuri took a bite, then made a face and grimaced.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad," Yurio scolded him, "Eat more. The doctor is worried they might have to feed you through a needle if you don't start eating more."

"Th-this is gross," Yuuri complained, choking on his next bite.

"Well, where do you think you are," Yurio snapped, "This isn't the grand palace, it's a hospital. Eat!"

"You know, Yurio, you have terrible bedside manners," Yuuri sighed, forcing down another bite, "Your manners are as horrible as this food."

Yurio felt a tap on his shoulder and looked back at Otabek, who gestured towards the younger man's backpack. Yurio's scowl deepened and he let out a flustered breath, then grabbed the backpack and fished out a paper bag.

"Fine!" he huffed, "If you're going to be so stubborn, I have a couple of pirozhkis left over from earlier. I was going to keep them for a snack, but if you're going to be such a pain in the ass…"

"Pirozhkis!" Yuuri repeated, brightening and trying to sit up.

"Hey, where are you going?" Yurio objected, "Sit still while I help you. You're a mess, pork cutlet bowl!"

"S-sorry," Yuuri apologized.

"Shut up and eat," Yurio said more gently, breaking off pieces of the first pirozhki and sharing it with Yuuri, "You want to get out of here, don't you?"

"I need to find Victor," Yuuri said around a mouthful of pirozhki, "I know everyone's giving up on him, but I just can't."

"You need to concentrate on your own recovery," Otabek said solemnly, "They are still searching for Victor. And when Yurio and I are not here, we're looking too."

"You are?" Yuuri asked, studying Yurio's suddenly sad expression.

"Of course we are," he answered in a low, tightly controlled voice, "We are his friends too."

"I know," Yuuri assured him, "It's just that time is going by, and I can tell that the police and search crews are convinced they're not going to find even a…"

Yuuri's breath caught, and his eyes filled with sudden tears.

"Stop talking like that," Yurio said shortly, "It's not helping anything. Just be quiet, rest and eat. If you want to help, take care of yourself so you can…"

He paused, glancing at Otabek.

"So, you can be there for Victor when he's found."

Yuuri looked like he wanted to argue, but he gave a ragged sigh and rested against the pillow, accepting several more bites of Yurio's pirozhkis.

"Thank you, Yurio," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, "That's all I can eat."

"Why don't you try to go back to sleep?" Otabek suggested, "Maybe there will be news in a little while."

Yuuri continued to look doubtful, but he closed his eyes, picturing Victor's handsome, smiling face in his mind.

_Victor, please…please be alive._

_I need you._

_I really love you, Victor._

XXXXXXXXXX

Victor heard the music start, and made his first move, feeling the close presence of his captor, skating with him, a short distance away.

"What's wrong?" the other man goaded him, "You're making such small motions. You know how much space you have. Use it!"

"I can't manage the quad lutz under these circumstances," Victor said, matter-of-factly.

"You'll do what I tell you to do!" his captor scolded him.

Victor took a steadying breath, making the jump, but executing only three turns before landing awkwardly and barely staying on his feet. A moment later, the other man's body crashed into his, forcing him down onto his back on the ice. Victor could feel the man's hateful glare, even though his eyes were still covered.

"I told you to give me a quad!" Kazimir hissed, holding him down roughly, "Get up and give me a quad! I want a perfect performance."

His captor's fingernails dug cruelly into Victor's arms as he dragged the reeling skater to his feet and positioned him again. The music began and Victor moved through the opening, then threw himself into the air, managing the quad, but crashing down onto the ice as his skate wobbled on the landing. He gasped and curled his body as he was stricken repeatedly with what felt like a leather strap.

"Get up! Do it again. You're not finished until it's perfect!" the man yelled.

"It's not going to be perfect on skates like these, and you know it!" he gasped, "It's not possible. You can hit me as many times as you want. It's not going to change the physics of the situation. If you want me to skate well, then I will need better skates."

"Listen, you manicured, pedicured, spoiled little rich brat!" his captor snapped, striking him with each word, "Get-up-and-give-me-a-quad!"

He dragged the nearly exhausted skater to his feet and positioned him again, starting the music and watching as Victor performed the opening, and barely managed to land the requested quad.

"Better, go on," Kazimir demanded, "The quad flip."

Clenching his teeth, the weary skater managed the jump and relaxed slightly.

 _I can get through the rest of the routine. But, when we finish that, he'll push me through the next program, and the next. With each one that I complete, we grow closer to when he will kill me_.

_Why is he doing this?_

_What is the point?_

_He says that I have to figure out who he is, but I can't think of who I know who would do something like this to me!_

"Better," his captor said grudgingly.

_I wonder if he will kill me even if I do guess who he is. He never actually said that guessing would save my life. He only said that if I didn't guess before completing the last routine, he would say it to me as he killed me. This guy is seriously unhinged! But until I have an idea who he is, I have to keep going along with him._

He finished the last moves of the program, then waited as the other man skated closer and stopped in front of him.

"Would you like to make a guess, Victor?" he asked, smirking, "There is no penalty for a wrong answer. Who do you think I am?"

"I know you are a skater, and I know that I encountered you sometime in my skating career. You obviously followed my career closely to have learned all of my routines."

"Very good," the other man said, patting his face gently, "Now, the next program."

"We've been skating for hours," Victor objected, "and you barely gave me anything to eat."

"Do you need special treatment, rich boy?" his captor taunted him, dragging him back to the center of the rink.

_He was poor._

_That's it. He was from a poor family, and he probably struggled to pay for the expenses associated with skating. I met a lot of both rich and poor kids in my skating career. I wonder when I met this man. Judging by Kazamir's age, I am going to guess it was while we were still juniors that we met._

_Damn it!_

_I was all over Russia, even as a junior, and I met hundreds of kids! It could be any of them!_

Music began to play, and Victor moved immediately, managing the opening and first half of the shorter routine with no mistakes. He headed into a jump, but hit a rough patch on the ice and started to fall. To his surprise, his captor's arms anchored him.

Victor inhaled sharply as a distant recollection flashed for a moment in his mind.

_"Watch out," a boy's voice said, "There are a few rough patches…"_

Victor strained his mind, but couldn't recall the face that went with the voice. Shaking his head, he continued the program, finishing a few minutes later, and dropping to his knees on the ice, panting harshly. He heard his captor approaching, and remained on his knees.

"I suppose that's enough for today, Victor."

The man pulled him to his feet and guided him to the edge of the rink and to a small bench. Victor sat down and removed the poorly fitting skates, wincing as he felt the sore spots where the skin on his feet had been rubbed raw. He sensed that the man was watching him and waited quietly for the next direction.

"You know," the man said in a conversational tone, "we're moving quickly through your programs, Victor. I guess it shows that greatness can overcome unfair disadvantages."

"Is that why you're torturing me?" Victor asked suddenly, "You were poor and couldn't afford proper skates and equipment?"

The man was quiet for several minutes. Victor shivered as the warmth of his exertions faded and the chill began to seep in again.

"I was poor and I couldn't afford proper skates, equipment, ice time or coaching," the man answered in a low, angry voice, "The coach I had said that greatness could overcome everything. He shoved that down my throat while I suffered. I always wondered if it was true. Maybe I'm doing this to test what he said. I have to admit, you are doing better than I expected."

"I'm freezing," Victor said in a quiet, calm tone, "If you do not give me something warm to put on, I am going to become ill."

"You're cold?" his captor inquired, his tone becoming more mocking, "Well, we'll get you washed up, and have something warm to eat."

 _Ugh_ , Victor groaned inwardly, _He's barely given me anything, and what he has given me was so disgusting, I could barely choke it down._

He forced himself to stay quiet as the man helped him to his feet and guided him to a shower that, thankfully, had lukewarm water, so that it didn't add to the chill he was already suffering. He moved in, under the water, grateful for the little respite from the cold. But, a stabbing feeling of fear invaded as he sensed the other man stepping into the shower with him.

_God, don't touch me!_

He quivered as he felt the man reach past him to collect something, then he jumped in surprise as the man's soapy hands touched him.

"Don't!" Victor gasped, stepping back and making a sound of pain as something that felt like a handle poked into his back, "Don't touch me!"

A jolt went through him as the other man laughed at him and grabbed him by the hair.

"Oh, you understand, right?" he said in a jovial tone, "You know that poor boys who want to skate have to pay for what they can't afford in other ways."

The man's face moved in, unbearably close to his, and Victor turned his head aside.

"Are you afraid, Victor?" the man teased him, pressing his body up against the trapped skater's and breathing his next words into Victor's flushed ear, "Are you worried you'll have to suck me off? That you'll have to let me have sex with you?"

Victor shivered at the words, but remained carefully silent. He startled as the man kissed him on the exposed throat, then stepped back.

"Luckily for you, my coach only physically and verbally abused me," he huffed softly, "But, you know, you are kind of tempting. If you misbehave, I could go there."

"I've done everything you've asked," Victor answered, his voice shaking slightly.

"Maybe," the man replied, "but I'm not stupid enough to think that you're not plotting to try to escape. I'm warning you that you won't get away. And I can't promise you I won't get so angry that I'd kill you, if you did try to run. Just keep doing what I tell you to do, and try to figure out who I am more quickly."

"And if I do, you promise to let me go?" Victor asked cautiously.

The other man was quiet for a moment.

"Do you think I won't?" he asked, his voice betraying none of his intent in asking.

"I have no reason to trust the word of someone who would do something like this," Victor answered honestly.

"No reason to trust me?" his captor repeated softly, "Aren't we friends?"

"Are we?" Victor asked, "When I saw you as Kazimir, I didn't recognize you. Did you change your appearance?"

"Some," the man confessed.

"Your hair is light colored, not dark," Victor surmised, "I never saw the color of your eyes because you wore sunglasses."

"Good boy, Victor," the man said, his smirk returning, "Now, I think we're clean."

They stepped out of the shower, and the man placed a thin, ragged towel in Victor's hand, then watched as he dried himself. He wrapped a thin robe around his shivering captive, then led him back to the room where he had been bound before. Victor shivered harder and his teeth chattered as he addressed his captor again.

"I am…g-going t-to freeze to death!" he panted, "I need something a little warmer, or I might die before you have a chance to kill me. You do want to control that moment, don't you?"

"You know, you seem very convinced that I am going to kill you," the other man noted, "Are you losing faith, Victor? You know, good boys have some faith."

Victor frowned.

"You talk a lot about faith and trust, for someone who betrayed those very things to bring me here!"

Something struck the side of Victor's face and he tumbled to the floor, gasping at the hard impact. The man was on him before he could recover, grabbing him by the wrists and dragging him to the bed, where he forced the struggling skater down on his belly and bound his wrists to the rail at the top of the bed. He drove a fist into his captive's vulnerable abdomen, leaving Victor coughing and gasping for air as his feet were secured to the rail at the foot of the bed. He moved back to the bound skater's head and glared down at him.

"You shouldn't be so troublesome," he growled softly, "Remember that you have something to lose besides your life, Victor. Think about that the next time you want to fight with me."

He walked to the doorway and looked back again.

"Get some sleep. We start early tomorrow."

Victor continued to pant and cough as his captor's footsteps faded. Gradually, he regained his breath, and he listened carefully. For a time, he heard only intermittent footsteps, and the sound of a radio playing music. He waited until the music was turned off, and the distant sounds faded away.

_As soon as he is asleep…_

He quieted his own breaths, listening intently, until he finally heard soft snores from his captor's nearby room. Breathing a sigh of relief, he shifted, relaxing his hands and pushing his arms closer together.

_I saw on TV once, where a detective left tension in his hands while he was bound, then he relaxed and was able to escape when he was left alone._

He twisted his hands slowly in the space he had created. Sweat broke out on his forehead, despite the chill that remained in the air.

_I still can't see, but when he was beating me earlier, some tears built up at the corners of my eyes. Maybe when my hands are free, I can at least raise an edge so I can peek out. God, this has to work! I don't know how else I'll escape him._

He put all of his effort into twisting one hand until he felt a sharp burning on the skin, and it slipped free. His heart pounding, he worked his second hand free, then attacked the bonds on his feet. The knots were harder to untie, but he clenched his teeth and worked as quickly as he could, still listening to his captor's steady snoring.

When his feet were freed, he paused and explored the covering over his eyes.

_He said that trying to remove it could disfigure me. While I don't want that, neither can I just let him catch me again. I have to try to at least work a corner free. There has to be a weak spot._

He searched the edges with his fingers and managed to find a place where the edge wasn't perfectly flat. His skin stung and he scented blood as he worked at the edge, but with intense effort, he raised the edge enough to peek out and see that the room he was in was small and dark. He climbed off the bed and moved on bare feet to the door, tilting his head to see out the opening he had created in the eye covering.

_I wonder which is the way out. I was unconscious or very out of it when he brought me in here. Still, I think the ice rink is to the left, so if I go right, maybe that will lead me out._

He swallowed hard and felt his way along the wall, slowly creeping down the corridor and turning his head to search for any sign of an exit. With effort, he located what looked like it might be an exit door. He paused and listened, but was no longer able to hear his captor's breathing.

_Please don't creak…_

But as soon as he moved the door, it emitted a grinding, creaking noise. Victor rushed through and moved out, into the darkness, his heart pounding wildly as he turned his head this way and that, seeking a way out. His hands found a chain link fence, and he felt his way along to a closed gate that appeared to be locked.

_Damn it!_

He followed the fence around the perimeter, but found no openings. Frustrated, he headed back to the door and searched around until he found a place where someone had cut the fence.

_Probably punk kids coming in to hang out and smoke or drink. Thanks, kids._

He slipped out, shivering as he realized once again how cold the night was. He turned his head from left to right, searching the area around him, but found it to be a poor, industrial area.

_South Central Saint Petersburg? The bad area. God, even though I'm free, I'm not safe here. I have to find a phone or a police officer!_

He heard the sudden sound of a door slamming open somewhere behind him, and felt panic shoot through his body.

_Already, he's after me?_

He searched frantically and found several dumpsters in a cement alcove. He could already hear his captor's running footsteps following.

_Not good._

He took a breath and ducked behind the dumpsters, turning his head so that he could watch the street he had come down. A few minutes passed, then a blond man stepped out, onto the street.

"Victor," he said solemnly, starting towards the dumpsters, "that was pretty sly of you, working your way free, but you know, I picked this place because even getting out here wouldn't do you any good. We are far from anyone who could help you. You are really going to freeze out here. You should come back."

Victor bit his lip and held his breath as the blonde man moved closer.

_Wait a minute…I remember this place!_

He shrank back against the cold metal container as his captor moved closer still.

"I don't even have to find you, actually," he said sternly, "If you don't come out, I will just go take the car, and visit your lover in the hospital."

Victor's breath caught as his hand suddenly found a long piece of metal. He picked it up and positioned himself carefully, waiting until the other man reached the dumpster that concealed him.

"Do you want Yuuri to die, Victor?" the man asked.

Victor's teeth clenched and he stepped out, swinging the metal bar at the other man. He felt an impact, and his captor swore. But a hand wrapped around the other end of the bar, and the man kicked out with his foot, catching Victor's midsection and dropping him onto his knees. He tore the metal bar from the skater's hands and threw it aside, then struck a blow to the back of his head, making him collapse onto the concrete.

"That was stupid!" he scolded the barely unconscious skater, "Don't think you'll get another chance to do something like this…and as soon as you've been punished for troubling me, I am going back to kill Yuuri Katsuki!"

"N-no!" Victor panted, gasping, "I'll go with you."

"It's too late for that," the other man began.

"We should talk," Victor managed in a low, pained voice, "I know who you are, _Pasha_."


	5. The Way Your Eyes See Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Victor struggles to remember his captor, Yuuri faces new danger.

A rushing sound filled Victor Nikiforov's ears, bringing him slowly back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to find that the covering that his captor had placed over them had been removed, and the cut made on his cheek when he had tried to remove the device himself, had been cleaned and covered with a small bandage. He tried to bring a hand up to touch the bandage, but was inhibited by new bonds that allowed him to sit up against the pillows on the cot he laid on, but whose fastenings were well out of reach. Listening carefully revealed no hint of where his captor was, so Victor looked around the room and recognized it as one of the on site dorm rooms that he remembered the skating facility having when he had briefly used the rink in his junior years as a skater.

_My home rink was damaged by fire, so for six months I lived and trained here. I remember meeting Pasha Markov when I first arrived. He was a friendly boy and we got on well…Pasha, and his friend, Anton Akimov and I.. The three of us grew close, and we parted on good terms, although I do remember Pasha taking it pretty hard when I left. I wonder if he is doing this because of anger over that or something. We never fought. I have no idea where this is coming from!_

He looked around the room again, noting that the thin blanket on his bed had been covered with a thicker, warmer one, and a television had been placed at the end of the cot. A remote laid within reach, next to a reasonably fresh glass of water and a small meal.

"Oh, thank god!" he breathed, practically inhaling the food, then drinking deeply.

_But, I don't understand the better treatment. Pasha was furious with me for trying to escape. Did something else happen?_

_I don't remember exactly._

_I was lying on the concrete, and it was so cold, and he was standing over me. He…he said that when he had punished me, he was going to go and kill Yuuri!_

_Damn it! Is that's where he's gone?_

Victor searched the bed and nightstand more carefully, but found no way to reach the place where his bonds were secured, and no tools to help him cut the strong straps.

_I can't just sit here while he goes out and hurts or kills Yuuri!_

But try as he might, the unrelenting bond remained firm, and after a time, he tired to the point that he fell back against the pillows, panting softly and sweating. Frustrated and weary, he picked up the remote and turned on the television. He found that the set had been tuned to play a DVD that was in the player. At his touch on the play button, the video began, showing the inside of the ice rink as he remembered it from years before.

The younger, long-haired version of himself skated into view and jumped into a fast sit spin. He rose out of the spin and gathered speed, then executed a clean triple axel. He skated in a slower circle, then moved through a series of graceful steps and turns.

"That's brilliant, Victor!" another boy's voice said excitedly.

 _Anton Akimov_ , Victor recalled, _He was an extremely talented skater, and I remember that Pasha idolized him. I had thought that I would surely meet Anton, at least, in competition, but I never did. The three of us drifted apart when I returned to my home rink, and I never heard what happened to them._

Anton skated into view in the video, a charming smile on his face, his curly brown hair dancing and his blue eyes catching the light. He turned and swept across the ice, gathering speed, then moving into a combination of jumps. He landed near the long-haired Victor in the video and caught his hand, then the two sped across the ice, turned and let go to perform side by side jumps as Pasha called out appreciatively from the edge of the rink.

 _We had a lot of fun practicing together_ , Victor remembered, _Anton and I were lively and Pasha was usually more quiet, but he did get chatty when we got into our coaches' liquor and got drunk together. But again, nothing bad ever happened. Why would Pasha be angry with me, then? Why would he fake my death, then bring me here? Was he angry because I left and became successful without them? He's made such a point of keeping me in poor skates and clothing, letting me suffer the cold. So, maybe he is making the point that it was unfair that he and Anton didn't have the advantages I did as a skater. I understand that frustration. Skating is an expensive sport. The government has some programs for very talented skaters, but there are always more skaters than there are offers like that._

_I wonder if, for some reason, Pasha is placing the blame on me for our different circumstances._

He studied his surroundings again, frowning and shaking his head. The movement caused a sudden burning feeling along his throat, and he reached up to touch the sore area. His breath caught as he found a distinct, painful marking he could feel that appeared to go around his neck.

_What the hell is that?_

_Did…did Pasha begin to strangle me?_

_I don't remember anything after him telling me that he was going to punish me, then he was going to kill Yuuri! So, was the strangulation to near death my punishment? Did he leave me to go and hurt Yuuri! I have to know!_

He struggled more fervently against his bonds, but found no way to loosen them enough to escape.

_Pasha is not taking any chances this time. I can't escape from him this way. What can I do?_

Out of ideas, he turned his attention back to the television. He stopped the video replay and switched over to local TV, searching the few viewable stations until he found a news report.

"Skater, Yuuri Katsuki, was released from a Saint Petersburg hospital this morning. He spoke briefly to our reporters before leaving to return to the home he shares with skating legend, Victor Nikiforov."

Victor swallowed hard, an anguished look on his face as Yuuri appeared on the screen, looking pale and shaky as he leaned against Yakov's supportive shoulder.

"I'm well enough now that I can join the search for Victor," Yuuri said in a determined tone, "I'm not giving up until Victor is home."

The picture returned to the grim-faced newscaster, who shook her head sadly.

"It's clear how devoted to finding his partner Katsuki is, but unfortunately, police sources have indicated that they moving from a rescue to a recovery phase, signaling that they do not expect to find Victor Nikiforov alive."

"That is very distressing news," the male newscaster next to her added, "Victor Nikiforov has led men's singles skating for years. In addition to dominating the field of skaters, he is an inspiration to so many upcoming skaters as well. The idea of losing him in such a senseless way is just tragic."

_Pasha did a good job of convincing everyone that I'm dead. They don't seem to even suspect I could be alive. It sounds like they're ready to give up on me…all of them. All but Yuuri. He must be so frightened and sad. I wish that there was some way that I could reassure him._

_God, please, I need to get out of here!_

XXXXXXXXXX

Yuuri looked out the window of the limousine as it carried him back across town, to his and Victor's home. He stole a glance at Yakov, who looked back at him sternly.

"You need to go home and rest now. You know that you shouldn't even be out of the hospital right now. Two doctors told you that, and yet you wouldn't listen to either of them! Do you think this is what Vitya would want you to do, Yuuri?"

"Victor is out there somewhere!" Yuuri exclaimed, clenching his hands, "He's hurt or he would find a way to contact us. We have to find him!"

Yakov's eyes darkened.

"You think none of us have been looking? They have rescue teams searching that whole area. There is a helicopter flying over. What more can you hope to do, barely standing on your own feet? Just do what you're told and stay out of the way, Yuuri! Take care of yourself. Get better. It's what Vitya would say, if he was here."

Yuuri's face reddened and his hands clenched until they shook.

"Victor's not here! He's out there somewhere hurt and we have to…!"

"VITYA IS MOST LIKELY DEAD!" Yakov roared, making Yuuri's face go white and his eyes fill with enraged tears.

"NO!" he yelled back, "He's just h-hurt and he's lost, but we'll find him! We just can't stop looking. We can't give up on him now."

Yakov's eyes widened in disbelief, but his yelling stopped and a look of genuine sympathy overtook the anger.

"Yuuri, I know it's hard, but you have to face the facts," he said solemnly, "Do you think that the rest of us searching aren't as worried about him as you are? Do you think we don't want him found as much as you do? We are doing everything we can. And if you are honest with yourself, you know that in that damaged body, you won't be anything but a hindrance out there."

Yuuri stared at the elder Russian wordlessly for a long moment, then his eyes overflowed with tears and he collapsed against Yakov, crying soundlessly. The Russian man looked down to where Yuuri's face burrowed into his shoulder and his usually stern eyes softened. He held Yuuri more firmly as the limousine approached Victor and Yuuri's home.

"Stop this now," he said gently, "You know how upset it makes Vitya when you cry. He doesn't like you to be sad."

"I can't help it," Yuuri sobbed, "All I want to do is find Victor, but I'm so weak, I can't even do anything for him. I've been useless this whole time! What am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to take care of yourself and get better, Yuuri," Yakov answered, petting his hair for a moment, then patting his back soothingly, "I'm sorry if it hurts you to be told to do that when all you can do is think about him, but there's nothing else you can do. The rest of us haven't given up. We want to find Vitya too. We'll keep looking, even though things look bad right now. We'll keep looking. Stop crying."

"Sorry," Yuuri said, pulling free and rubbing his eyes as the car reached the house and came to a stop, "Thank you for taking me home."

"I shouldn't have," Yakov complained half-heartedly, "But I don't like to see you unhappy either. And being in the hospital wasn't helping you. You're that determined to defy everyone and try to find Vitya yourself, despite being all banged up and tired. You're as stubborn as he is, you know."

Yuuri managed a sad smile.

"Yeah, Victor says that too."

Yakov glanced at the darkened windows of the house.

"Are you going to be all right here, alone for awhile?" he asked, "There's a press conference I need to go to. I had your sister and friend drop Maccachin off here to stay with you, since you said you didn't want anyone else here for a bit."

"Yeah, I just want to rest alone with Maccachin for awhile," Yuuri sighed, "It's find if people want to come over after the press conference. I just have to get my bearings."

"Eat and rest, Yuuri," Yakov said firmly, "I will come by later."

"Right, thanks," Yuuri said, climbing out of the car.

He walked slowly to the front door, biting his lower lip as his injured body ached in objection to being forced through the motions. Looking back at the car, he waved to Yakov, then unlocked the door and walked inside, closing the door behind him. He heard Maccachin whine, and the old poodle trotted up to him and nuzzled his hand, begging to be petted. Yuuri stroked the dog's head and ruffled his fur gently, his eyes on the darkened entry to the home he shared with Victor. His eyes closed for a moment and a memory raked his mind ferociously.

_"Yuuri?" Victor called, breaking him out of his reverie._

_Yuuri blinked and shook his head, then closed the notebook, reorienting on what was going on around him._

_Victor stepped into the room as Yuuri stood and started towards the doorway._

_"What are you doing?" his amused partner asked, giving him a look of mingled exasperation and affection, "The limousine is waiting."_

_"Sorry," Yuuri said sheepishly, "I only meant to add a picture to my memory book, but I guess I kind of got lost in it."_

_"Why does that not surprise me?" Victor chuckled, slipping an arm around him as the two left the room, "We really need to go. There's fashionably late, and then, there's just plain late."_

_"Sorry," Yuuri said, blushing._

_"It's okay," Victor said, giving him a good natured wink, "You look so beautiful right now, once they see you, they'll forget about how long they waited."_

_"Victor!" Yuuri objected, his blush darkening._

_"Come on," Victor urged him, nudging him out the front door of their home._

"Victor," Yuuri whispered sadly.

Maccachin whined again and licked Yuuri's hand. He looked down at the old dog and smiled sadly.

"Sorry, boy, Victor's gone for awhile. But, don't worry, okay? I'm here and I'm going to stay with you. It'll be all right. Victor will come home soon."

Yuuri took a steadying breath and walked out of the entry and into the hallway, passing by his and Victor's bedroom and heading to the room he had been in, in his memory. He found the wedding notebook still sitting on the table and he dropped onto his knees on the little pillow beside the low table.

He stared down at the picture on the cover, an image of him next to Victor, the bright white of his suit contrasting beautifully with the black Victor wore. He opened the cover and studied the date that was inscribed inside in lovely calligraphy. On the page facing the inside cover was a picture of them, standing under a light colored canopy with their hands positioned so that their matching rings glinted in the light.

He continued to turn the pages slowly, studying each and remembering in full detail.

_I still remember that it was Victor birthday, Christmas Day. I asked him if maybe he didn't want to share his birthday with our anniversary and all of the chaos of everyone celebrating Christmas too, but he really liked the idea of making his birthday an even better day by making it the happiest day of his life._

_Victor said that to me…that our wedding day was going to be the best day of his life. It was going to be better, he said, than all of the medals and honors he had won as a skater. I couldn't believe he would say something like that to me, and I started crying like a baby. I was just so surprised that he would feel that way, just about marrying me. I knew he loved me, and I knew he loved competing with me, but hearing him say that I make him that happy just took my breath away. No one's ever told me something like that before._

_Only Victor._

_Only Victor has ever believed in me so faithfully and loved me so completely. He's supported me through all of my roughest times as a skater. It's because of him that people say I'm a great talent. It's kind of funny, how they all used to doubt me. And when Victor decided to coach me, they doubted he could do it._

_We proved them wrong, and then some, didn't we, Victor?_

Yuuri felt tears rolling down his cheeks, and he forced himself to close the wedding album. He sniffed softly and rubbed his hands over his face. Maccachin poked his head under Yuuri's arm, and Yuuri smiled down at him and hugged him.

"I know you miss him," he said more calmly than he felt, "I miss him too, but Victor will come back. I promise he will. We just have to go and…"

He looked down at his aching body and frowned.

"I think I'd better start with a hot shower," he sighed, "If I want to go and look for Victor, I'm going to have to get to where I can move around without hurting so much."

He patted the poodle on the head and stood, picking up the wedding book and carrying it into the bedroom. Something dark on the unmade bed caught his eye, and he felt another memory overtake him.

_He laid on his side, facing the window, with his eyes closed and Victor's strong arms hugging him from behind. A little smile lit his face and he opened his eyes as his husband's warm lips touched the back of his neck._

_"Is it time to get up already?" he yawned, turning to face Victor._

_"Not exactly," Victor said, smirking, "I just want to play a little before we have to get up and go."_

_"Oh my god, we played for most of last night," Yuuri laughed as Victor planted more kisses under his chin, "Don't you ever get tired?"_

_"Not of you," Victor answered, attacking his lips hungrily, "Come here, my tasty pork cutlet bowl. I'm so hungry for you!"_

_"Victor!" Yuuri objected, laughing helplessly as his husband licked the side of his face._

_"Oh, my little piggy tastes so good!" Victor teased, "I want more!"_

_"Wh-what? How can you want more? We did it a lot last night. Victor, no…m-my…I still hurt a little!"_

_He blinked in surprise as Victor flipped suddenly onto his belly, raising his bare bottom in the air and wiggling it suggestively._

_"V-victor?"_

_"If you're bottom is tired, have more of mine," he offered, smirking over a naked shoulder._

_"H-huh? Victor!"_

"Insatiable," Yuuri whispered, reaching down to brush his fingers against Victor's abandoned yukata, "And you made me constantly hungry too."

Yuuri closed his eyes against the tears that threatened, and he forced himself to turn away and head for the bathroom. Maccachin hopped up on the bed and laid down on Victor's yukata, closing his eyes.

Inside the bathroom, Yuuri closed the door and slowly disrobed, pausing to look at his thin, battered body in the mirror. Dark bruises and scabs marked the places his body had struck the ground as he had fallen over the cliff. He closed his eyes, trying to remember, but only recovering a dim recollection of a garbled male voice, then a feeling like falling. He sighed wearily and turned towards the shower. The faucet squeaked as he turned the handle and water began to pour down. Yuuri waited until it steamed, then he stepped in, underneath it, sighing more deeply as the hot water soothed his aching muscles, and he began to relax. He breathed slowly, trying to let everything drain from his worried mind. But just as he really began to feel it was helping, he caught a whiff of something that smelled like smoke, and he heard Maccachin barking urgently.

Yuuri burst out of the shower and hurriedly wrapped a towel around his wet body. He opened the door into the bedroom and gasped in distress as he spotted fire in the hallway, and Maccachin ran past him, barking again.

"Oh no!"

Billowing flame crawled through the doorway as Yuuri grabbed the wedding book from the bed, entangling Victor's yukata in his fingers as well, as he tried to run to the bedroom window. But the fire blocked his path, and Yuuri found himself facing a wall of flame that forced him back into the bathroom.

"Maccachin!" he cried, coaxing the frightened dog into the bathroom. He closed the bedroom door and wet his towel in the sink, then shoved it under the door, blocking out the smoke. He opened the small window in the shower and grabbed Maccachin, speaking to him soothingly.

"Let's get you out, boy. I can't fit through, but you can. Get away, okay. Try to get some help!"

He helped the old dog through the window, then wrapped a fresh towel around himself and dampened a rag, which he held over his face as he stuck his head out the window to breathe.

_I hope Maccachin can find someone. A lot of smoke got in before I could block up the space under the door._

Yuuri spotted a dark shape in the haze of smoke outside the open window.

"Help!" he cried loudly, "I'm trapped!"

He squinted at the silhouette of what looked to be a man. Maccachin ran to the person, barking and whimpering. The man looked down at the dog, then at Yuuri, who waved his arms urgently.

"Help!" he cried again, more frantically, "I can't get out!"

He heard sirens approaching, and watched in dismay as the shadowy figure turned and ran away. Maccachin looked after him, then looked back at Yuuri and moved closer to the house as the fire trucks rolled up to the house. He barked loudly, but remained firmly at Yuuri's side.

"Help!" Yuuri cried, coughing as the smoke thickened, "I'm over here!"

A fireman appeared in the yard and ran to the little window.

"Are you all right?" he asked, "Are you injured?

"I'm okay, but I can't get out, and the fire's coming in! It's starting to burn through the door!"

"Okay, son, stand back."

Yuuri moved back, still holding the wet rag over his nose and mouth as he watched the fireman strike the wall with a heavy axe. With a few carefully directed blows, he broke the window and widened the opening enough for Yuuri. Yuuri grabbed the last of the towels and laid them hastily over the broken section, then he threw himself into the opening as the fireman grabbed his hands and pulled him out. Yuuri flopped onto the ground and the fireman helped him to his feet and tucked his towel more firmly around him. The man helped him to the back of the fire truck, where he sat Yuuri down on the tailgate and examined him quickly.

"Here is some oxygen," he said, placing a mask over the younger man's face.

"Th-thanks," Yuuri managed shakily.

"Do you know how this fire started?" the fireman asked.

"No," Yuuri explained, "Everything was fine when I went in to shower, then I heard Macca barking and smelled smoke."

He looked down at the old dog, who was sitting at his side and resting his face on Yuuri's leg. Then, he noticed suddenly that he was still holding on to the wedding book and Victor's yukata. He set the book down and wrapped the warm clothing around himself.

"You're very lucky to be alive, son," the fireman said anxiously.

Another fireman joined the first.

"How is it?" asked the man who had helped Yuuri.

"The house is engulfed," the second man said, "We're just keeping it from spreading."

"Any idea how it started?"

The other man nodded.

"A neighbor saw a guy go into the yard and he called the police to report it. He saw the guy again as the house went up in flames. He was running off. This wasn't an accident. This fire was intentionally set!"


	6. Gods Belong in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Yuuri struggles to remember something useful, Victor's captivity takes an even more dangerous turn.

Yuuri sat silently in the back of a taxi cab, positioned between Otabek and Yurio, and still wearing the only clothing he had managed to rescue from the burning house. In his hands, he clutched the wedding album he had saved. Maccachin peeked over from the row of seats behind them, whimpering and licking Yuuri's soot smudged cheek.

"Thanks for taking me home with you," Yuuri said in a low, humiliated voice, "I couldn't go with Minako and Mari, or with Yakov, looking like this."

"No time to grab any clothes, eh pork cutlet bowl?" Yurio said with unusual sympathy.

"There was no time to grab anything but Maccachin, the wedding album and this robe of Victor's," Yuuri said sadly, "Everything's gone. I don't have my passport or any of our important papers. They may be able to find the safe in the debris later, but it was still too hot to go in and look for anything when I left. There are some security guards watching the place, thanks to Yakov, so hopefully, nothing will be taken before I can go back tomorrow."

"I have some clothes you can borrow," Yurio offered, "And we'll go back with you tomorrow to look for the safety box."

"Thank god Victor keeps all of his old uniforms and skating things in storage at the skating rink," Yuuri sighed, "His skates with the golden blades were destroyed, and all of his clothes and things."

"Well, you'll be able to rebuild, _da_?" Yurio asked.

"I don't know," Yuuri replied anxiously, "Things are complicated, because the Russian government doesn't recognize our marriage. To the authorities, Victor is my coach and I am his student. The house is in Victor's name, and even though I'm on his bank account now, it's frozen because he is missing and may soon be declared dead. At that point, they will look at his will, and the money should be released to me, as long as there are no additional claims made by creditors or Victor's family."

"His parents won't give you any trouble, will they?" Otabek asked, reaching up to rub his chin.

"No," Yuuri answered, "Victor's parents and I are on good terms. But even so, right now, while things are in limbo, I only have what's in my account. And I have no access to that until I go and have new documents issued. Yakov's helping a lot, thank goodness. He said he'll loan me money to buy some necessities, so at least I'll be able to get some clothing of my own pretty quick."

"You'll be okay," Yurio agreed, "Just keep focusing on getting better. You should try to sleep when we get to my place."

"Who can sleep at a time like this," Yuuri lamented, "Yurio, you know that fire was intentionally set. And that man…the one I saw in the smoke…he just stood there, watching. He didn't care at all that I could have been killed."

"Bastard," Yurio seethed.

"You're sure that you didn't catch anything about him that could help you identify him?" Otabek asked.

"No," Yuuri sighed, "the smoke was just too thick in between us."

"Seems pretty ballsy to just stand there and look at you, knowing if the smoke blew the wrong way, you would be able to identify him," Yurio mused.

"Yeah, that is weird. It's weird too that he didn't say anything. He didn't tell me why he was trying to kill me. I don't know what this was about…whether it was about Victor and me being lovers…a grudge of some kind, although I don't know anyone who would have that bad a grudge against me. Maybe it was about Victor. He had other lovers before me…female. But the guy could have been a rival or something. Still, why would he attack me while Victor was missing? There are so many hard questions!"

"Put them out of your head and focus on resting and healing up," Yurio advised him, "Do you know what time that police sketch artist is going to come over tomorrow?"

"Nine," Yuuri answered dispiritedly, "I don't know if it's going to do any good, but the investigator seemed to think that I might have noticed some helpful details. I really just saw a shadow."

"Well, there might be something about his features that stood out," Otabek suggested, "maybe something that you wouldn't have to be close to see."

Yuuri frowned and closed his eyes for a moment as a memory returned to him. In his mind, he caught a flash image of a blonde man with angular features.

"Are you okay, pork cutlet bowl?" Yurio asked, "Did you remember something?"

Yuuri's frown deepened and he tried harder to recall where he had seen the blonde man, but in the end let out a huff of breath and shook his head.

"I thought I might have remembered something, but…I guess not. I don't know."

"You still don't remember anything about the accident, right?" Otabek asked, "Could you have been beginning to remember something?"

"Maybe," Yuuri said uncertainly, "I'm not sure. I think I saw a man with blonde hair and sharp features somewhere, and when I thought about it, I thought that it seemed like that could match the shadowy person I saw when the house was burning and I was trapped."

"Try to relax and give yourself some time," Otabek urged him, "If you're starting to have little flashbacks, your memory of the accident could be returning. Just take it slow and give yourself time."

"But Victor may be running out of time," Yuuri said worriedly, "If he's even…"

"Hey," Yurio said sharply, "Stop that. Just do what Otabek said and relax so that it will come back to you."

"Yeah," Yuuri sighed, resting his chin on his hand and looking out the cab's window, "I'll try."

XXXXXXXXXX

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in Victor's hazy, spinning mind, but he found himself too dizzy to react at all.

_I started feeling strange after eating the food that was left. Was it drugged?_

The footsteps came closer and stopped by the bed. Victor felt hardened, angry eyes looking down at him. Someone's hand wrapped around his limp wrist, lifting it and squeezing gently for a moment. The person standing over him let out a soft breath and sat down on the bed.

"Victor?"

At the sound of his name, Victor managed a deeper, ragged breath.

"P-pasha…" he moaned weakly, "what did you do to me?"

The man sitting next to him bent slightly to speak into his ear.

"You're fine, Victor," he said reassuringly, "I only gave you something to calm you. You know that Anton doesn't like you being upset. He really likes you, Victor."

"Wh-what?" Victor panted uneasily, turning his head away from the warm breath that teased his earlobe, "Anton? Anton is here? Wh-where is he? Where is Anton, Pasha?"

"Shh, he's close by. Don't worry so much."

"I feel so dizzy it's making me sick," Victor complained, pulling weakly at his bonds, "Why did you tie me up, Pasha? I don't like it!"

Pasha smirked down at him, but the distortion in his captive's vision made him look eerily wicked.

"L-let me go!"

"Stop making such a fuss," Pasha admonished him.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Why don't I go and make you some tea?" Pasha offered, standing.

"N-no, don't leave!" Victor gasped, struggling.

"I told you to calm down," Pasha said more stridently, pushing down on Victor's chest and moving his face close to glare down into Victor's glazed eyes.

"Calm down and be quiet," he said sternly.

"Y-you said if I figured out who you were…"

Pasha nodded.

"I said that I would kill you if you didn't figure it out fast enough. You did fine with that little game, Victor. I'm not going to kill you, but you have to behave. What can I do to help you feel calm?"

"Let me go!"

Pasha's eyes darkened ominously, and he ran a fingertip along the still sore welt on Victor's graceful throat. At his touch, Victor flinched and his eyes rounded. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and his ears began to ring.

"Why do you look so afraid?" Pasha asked, his voice turning suddenly gentle and playful again.

_He's gone insane!_

_I have to get away from him, but how?_

"You know I would never hurt you, Victor. Anton likes you. He'd be upset if I hurt you."

"You said before that you were going to kill me if…"

"I was just playing," Pasha insisted, lying down beside his captive and laying an arm across Victor's slim waist.

His lips touched Victor's earlobe, making him flinch and shiver.

"You like to play, right Victor?"

"No!"

"That's not what you said before. You remember, don't you?"

Victor's hazy mind cleared slightly as Pasha recalled the scene for him.

_Victor slipped out of his room and made his way on silent feet down the hallway, carrying his skates in one hand. He heard whispers ahead of him and recognized the voices, so he relaxed slightly as he moved to join the two boys waiting for him._

" _You're here," Anton said, smiling, "I wasn't sure you'd come, Vitya."_

" _Are you kidding?" Victor answered excitedly, "Let's go. I want to do this."_

" _We have to be quiet," Pasha warned the other two boys, "If our chaperone wakes up and catches us, we'll be in trouble for being out of bed after curfew, and on the ice after lights out."_

" _You worry too much, Pasha," Anton laughed, his blue eyes sparking with mischief, "C'mon!"_

_The three boys crept out of the hallway and worked their way slowly to the darkened ice rink. They sat down, relaxing slightly, now that they were farther from the dorm rooms._

" _I'm going to try a quad," Anton said excitedly as he tied his skates on._

" _Me too," Victor laughed, "Which will you do?"_

" _Oh, I think a quad toe loop," Anton decided, "since it's the one I've done before."_

" _I'm going to try a flip," Victor replied._

" _A quad flip?" Pasha asked, looking impressed._

" _What quad do you want to try?" Anton asked him._

" _Oh, I don't know. I guess just the toe loop, like you."_

_The three boys moved onto the ice and warmed up, then Anton called out, "I'll go first!"_

_He skated around the rink, turned and gathered speed, then threw his slim, agile body into the air, making the required number of turns and landing perfectly._

" _Wow!" Pasha managed, staring, "That's amazing! I don't know if I can do that."_

" _Give it a try," Anton encouraged him, "I bet you can do it."_

" _You can," Victor added, "Go on, Pasha. Give it a try. If it feels too hard, just stop with a triple."_

_Pasha looked from Victor's friendly smile to Anton's more playful one._

" _All right, here I go."_

_He followed the same path that Anton had taken, carefully turning and gaining speed. He launched his body into the air and managed three turns before coming down hard on both skates and nearly falling. In an instant, Anton was beside him and steadying him._

" _Are you okay, Pasha?" his friend asked, seeming not to notice the look of longing that rose up in Pasha's bright eyes._

" _Y-yeah, sorry. I thought I could do it."_

" _It's okay," Victor assured him, "It was a good try. Now, I'll try the flip."_

" _Are you…?" Pasha began, stopping as Victor turned and skated away._

_The other two boys watched raptly as Victor sped across the ice and threw himself into the air, spinning gracefully and landing perfectly._

" _Oh my god!" Anton gasped, staring in surprise._

" _What?" Victor laughed, skating back to the two and completely missing the sudden frown that came over Pasha's face, "I told you I could do it."_

" _I thought you were kidding!" Anton raved, "Victor, you're amazing! You have to teach me to land it too."_

" _Yakov would kill me if he knew I was doing that jump, especially in the dark, in the middle of the night while breaking curfew."_

" _But they won't let us do those jumps in practice yet," Anton objected, "Come on. Just show me how?"_

_Victor bit his lip gently, looking from the ice to his excited friend._

" _W-well, all right. Come with me."_

_Pasha stepped back, watching with narrowed eyes as the two began. Within moments, the two seemed to have forgotten he was there. Pasha's teeth clenched as he saw Victor's hand touch Anton's arm as the two laughed together._

"It was clear that Anton liked you in a way that he couldn't like me."

Victor gave Pasha a stymied look.

"I swear, I didn't know!" he insisted, "Pasha, I didn't know that he liked me that way. I never did anything to encourage him. I wasn't aware that you liked him. I wasn't!"

"Do you know what it did to Anton when you left and didn't ever come back or call?" Pasha asked sternly.

"I was training for my senior debut by then," Victor remembered, "Yakov kept me too busy training all of the time. I barely had time for anything but skating, eating and sleeping. I know I should have kept in touch, but people fall out of touch when they're skating professionally. I didn't do it to hurt you."

"Oh, you didn't hurt me, but you hurt Anton," Pasha scolded him.

"I'm sorry," Victor apologized, "I really am. If you want me to tell him that, I will!"

Pasha glared at Victor for a moment, then began to release his bonds.

"What are you doing?" Victor asked, "Are we going to see Anton?"

"No," Pasha said angrily, "we're going to skate now, Victor."

"I'm still too dizzy," Victor objected, scooting away from the other man as his hands and legs were freed, "I'll fall."

"Come on, Victor," Pasha said more insistently, "We're going to play together."

"I told you, I can't!"

"It's okay," the other man said, his expression changing suddenly to a friendlier one, "I've got you."

He dragged the swaying skater onto unsteady feet and guided him out to the skating rink.

"You remember this, right?" he breathed into Victor's ear, "We spent a lot of time here, Victor. We sneaked in here at night so many times."

"I remember, but…"

"Shh, I'll help you. You want to look good when you skate for Anton. He really likes to watch you skate."

_Where is Anton? Something is really not right here. Pasha's behaving so strangely._

Victor sat down on a bench and watched silently as Pasha put on his own skates, then knelt in front of him, and tied the old beat up skates on his feet again. His breath caught as he suddenly remembered seeing the skates before.

"These were his, a long time ago!" Victor exclaimed softly, "That's why they're so beat up. They're worn out, Pasha."

"It's fine," Pasha said dismissively, "You skate so well, you can manage."

He paused and stole a more ominous glance at his captive.

"Besides, we can't use your skates now," he commented.

Victor felt an odd, terrified jolt at his captor's words.

"Why not, Pasha?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, "Why can't we use my skates?"

Pasha gave him a chilling smile.

"Because they burned up in the fire, of course."

Victor gave him a confused look.

"A fire?" he repeated, "What fire are you talking about?"

Pasha ignored his question completely and grabbed his hands, bringing him to his feet.

"Come on, Victor, let's skate, okay?"

"Tell me about the fire…"

Pasha's arm curled around his waist and he held Victor against him and dragged him onto the ice, then glided forward, bringing his captive along with him.

_I have to hold onto him. I'm so dizzy, I'll fall if I don't._

"This feels good, doesn't it, Victor?" Pasha gushed, holding him close as the two skated together, "It's like a dream come true. Anton would die if he saw us doing this!"

 _He keeps mentioning Anton_ , Victor mused, resting his head on the other man's shoulder and holding on to keep himself from falling.

_So, does he have Anton locked up here too?_

_Or…could he have…?_

_Oh my god!_

_Did he kill Anton?_

_Just how crazy is he?_

"You wanted to know about the fire?" Pasha asked suddenly, breathing the words icily into Victor's ear.

"Yes," Victor answered, forcing calm into his voice, "please tell me."

Pasha's smile warmed.

"You ask so nicely. Of course, I'll tell you."

"What fire were you talking about, Pasha?" Victor asked cautiously.

"I was talking about the one that burned down your house while Yuuri Katsuki was inside."

"What?" Victor gasped, his hands grasping his captor's arm tightly, "What did you do to Yuuri?"

"You tried to run away," Pasha answered, frowning, "I told you that something bad would happen. You broke my rules, Victor, so I burned down your house with Yuuri trapped inside. Yuuri Katsuki is dead!"

"No!" Victor shouted, "that can't be!"

"I told you to calm down!" Pasha hissed furiously.

Victor shoved him away, scrambling for the edge of the ice, even as he fell. Pasha climbed to his feet and skated to the struggling man, grabbing him roughly and wrapping a thick leather strap tightly around his neck. Victor's frantic fingers grabbed at the device as his captor tightened it even more, making Victor's already dizzy head spin harder.

"Why did you do that?" Pasha asked in a wounded tone, "Do you want me to have to kill you?"

Darkness closed in around Victor, and his body went limp. Pasha's hands released the ligature, and he watched Victor collapse onto the ice. Seeing that the other man wasn't moving, he knelt and checked for breathing and a pulse. He rose again, lifting Victor and tossing him over one shoulder to carry him back to his room.

"You know," he chided the unconscious man, "Anton may be right about how attractive you are…but when you get emotional, you are very, very stupid, Victor."


	7. We Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor finds a sliver of hope, even as he becomes more certain that Pasha is preparing to kill him.

A soft rushing in his ears, and a strange burning feeling on his throat brought Victor awake again. He tried to reach a hand up to feel what was causing the burning, but found his hands bound again, so that his range of motion was limited, and the knots that held the strong ropes were out of reach. Food sat within his reach on the nightstand, but he felt a twinge of mistrust and didn't touch the food or drink that had been left. The TV remote had been placed out of reach, leaving him nothing to do but wait for his captor to return.

_He told me that he set our house on fire, and that Yuuri was inside, and he perished in the flames. I don't want to believe that. I can't believe it. It may be just another lie to keep me under his control…although, him telling me that made me react without thinking. He almost killed me for the second time. I wonder if he provoked me because he wants to feel justified in killing me later._

_I have to find a way to take him off his guard. To get away from him, I will need to incapacitate him, and also, I will need to find out if there is a phone or a vehicle that I can use to make an escape. We are in a deserted area in the worst part of Saint Petersburg. It's an industrial area that was abandoned, due to hard times. I won't find help here._

_I think that the key will be making a connection with him. He's very focused on Anton. He was secretly in love with him, and I suspect that something made him decide to kill Anton. I need to try to get him to tell me what happened. It will probably unsettle him, and if he makes some kind of mistake, there could be a chance for me to escape or call for help._

_I just have to…_

He heard approaching footsteps and watched the door quietly as Pasha entered the room. His old friend looked at him wordlessly, reading his downcast expression, then he approached the bed and sat down.

"I'm glad you are awake. You worried me," Pasha said after a moment.

"I thought you were going to kill me," Victor said, forcing more calm into his voice than he felt, "I was scared because I couldn't breathe, and then everything went so dark. Why did you do that, Pasha?"

Pasha gave him a blank look.

"Why did I do what, Victor?" he asked, shaking his head.

"You tried to kill me," Victor said, fighting to say the words in a quiet, normal tone, "You wrapped that strap around my neck and you were choking me. Don't you remember?"

Pasha's blue eyes widened.

"Victor, what are you talking about? I would never do something like that. We're friends…you, Anton and I."

"But…"

"It must be the drugs that you took that made you so dizzy. You were out of your mind and didn't know what you were doing."

"What?" Victor mused, staring at Pasha disbelievingly, "What do you mean?

"I mean that you didn't mean to hurt yourself, of course," Pasha insisted.

"Hurt myself?" Victor repeated, his eyes narrowing, "You think I was hurting myself?"

_Is he trying to gaslight me?_

_I know that I tried to escape, and that, when I did, he wrapped that strap around my neck and choked me into unconsciousness!_

"You did hurt yourself," Pasha said firmly, "We were skating together, don't you recall that?"

"I do," Victor answered carefully.

"But then, you started to feel dizzy, and you started panicking. I don't know why. I couldn't understand it, but you grabbed the leather strap and tried to kill yourself. I was so scared for you. I didn't know what to do."

Victor gazed back at him speechlessly.

_He really is crazy._

_How am I going to get myself free?_

"Maybe you should eat something," Pasha suggested innocently, "You've been asleep for a long time. You must be hungry."

"Hmm," Victor sighed, glancing at the tray of food and drink and feeling a little shiver inside, "I don't feel hungry right now. Pasha, I think I would like to skate."

Pasha frowned thoughtfully.

"You want to skate?" he repeated, "What, now?"

"Yes, I would like to skate now," Victor agreed, "It's been a long time since I've been here with you and Anton. I was thinking about that time when I taught Anton the moves for what was going to be his first program."

Pasha gave him a surprised look.

"You still remember that?" he asked.

Victor nodded.

"I do. It was something that the three of us worked on together, _da_? Anton chose the music and theme with your help, and I choreographed the routine. We even practiced it together. I feel bad that I never got to see him perform it in competition."

"Oh, it was wonderful!" Pasha gushed, "I made him the most beautiful costume and he wore it to an exhibition and skated that routine. You should have seen how everyone was so mesmerized by him."

Pasha stiffened as his memory lit darkly with an image of his smiling friend, bowing to the sounds of enthusiastic applause.

"The announcer said that he had never seen anything so beautiful, and that men's singles could have a new champion soon."

Victor studied his captor's face curiously.

_I know for a fact that Anton never competed in the domestic championships here. He never qualified for the Grand Prix series and never appeared in the Four Continents or Worlds._

_Why is that?_

_Do I dare to ask Pasha this? If it triggers his emotions about Anton and me, it could make him dangerous again. What can I do to get the information I need more carefully?_

"Pasha, do you think we could skate his routine together?" Victor asked, tilting his head slightly and smiling nostalgically, "I miss the old days, the three of us. I feel bad for leaving and losing touch with you and Anton. Skating together would bring back nice memories, don't you think?"

Pasha started to smile, but stopped short and gave Victor a stern look.

"You need to eat first. You've been asleep for a long time, Victor. I will skate with you after you eat."

Victor took a long breath, considering.

_If I say no to him, he may suspect I am up to something, but if I eat the food and it's drugged again, that's not good either._

"But I'm really not hungry enough to eat," he objected in a good natured tone, "I'll tell you what. I'm sure you and Anton have a bottle or two of good Vodka around. I promise I will eat and drink with you as soon as we skate Anton's routine together. How is that?"

Pasha gave him a suspicious look.

"Sorry, if you refuse to eat, I can't skate with you. I can't let you go out and faint from hunger or dehydration. You have to eat first, Victor."

His eyes narrowed warningly.

"Is there something wrong with the food?" he asked, "I prepared it myself."

"Oh, nothing's wrong with the food," Victor assured him, "I told you. I'm just more interested in skating than eating right now. I was enjoying skating with you before."

"But, you said you were dizzy."

"Yes, well, I don't feel dizzy now. Will you please let me skate with you?"

Pasha took a flustered breath and sighed.

"You're so stubborn!" he complained, "But, fine."

"You'll untie me now?" Victor asked cautiously.

Pasha nodded and climbed off the bed. But instead of bending to release the captive skater's bonds, he withdrew a syringe from within his sweat jacket. Victor spotted the device and blanched.

"Pasha," he whispered as the other man closed in on him and popped the cap off of the needle, "Pasha, don't…"

He caught his breath and flinched as the needle plunged into the flesh of an arm. Pasha wrapped strong hands around Victor's biceps and glared into his widened eyes meaningfully as the drug slowly took effect.

"You think you are smart, Victor Nikiforov," he chided Victor, "but the truth is, I am smarter. You won't be able to trick me, so stop trying."

He waited until he felt the captive skater's body relax under his hands, then he released Victor's bonds and helped him to his feet. Victor leaned quietly against his shoulder as the two left the room and made their way to the ice rink. Pasha smiled at Victor as he sat down on the bench and waited silently while his skates were put on and tied in place. Pasha put on his own skates, then helped Victor to his feet and onto the ice.

"You're very relaxed now," Pasha observed, "Let's warm up a little."

He kept a steadying arm around Victor's waist as the two skated together for several minutes. Then, Pasha released him and took up a position at his side and a little behind.

"Now then, Anton's routine, Victor. Dance it with me."

A twinge of nostalgia touched Victor's confused mind as the music started. He was able to make the moves perfectly, having gotten used to Anton's worn out skates, but as he moved, flickers of memory tortured his mind and tears came to his eyes.

_Why, Pasha?_

_Why did you kill Anton?_

_You did do that, didn't you?_

_And why?_

_Why are you building up so slowly to killing me?_

He felt Pasha's arm curl around his waist again and realized that he had stopped skating, and that tears were sliding down his face. Pasha's cheek rested against Victor's dampened one, and he entwined their fingers and moved the two of them into a slow dance across the ice.

"You know, Victor, you really are a beautiful person. I see now why Anton loved you more than he loved me. I think I'm falling in love with you now too."

Victor felt a hard chill run down his spine at his captor's next words.

"Do you think that Anton will be jealous?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Yuuri watched in silence as the police sketch artist left Otabek and Yurio's apartment, then he turned to the detective in charge of the arson investigation, giving her a troubled look.

"Detective Orlova," he asked the middle aged woman anxiously, "do you really think anything will come of this sketching? I don't think I gave you very much to go on."

The detective smiled at him encouragingly.

"Your description was helpful, Mr. Katsuki, probably more helpful than you think. I admit that we can't make an identification on this alone, but you did seem to remember a few helpful things that will add to the investigation."

She studied him quietly for a moment, noting the deep sadness in his eyes and she reached out and took his hand.

"I know you are reeling from losing your husband, and now, from this fire that took everything else," she acknowledged, her green eyes sympathetic, "But from what I see, you are surrounded by friends, and you have your family. I read the interview that was done with Mr. Nikiforov's parents, and when they were questioned about your character, they both said that they were happy that their son found someone who obviously loves him as much as you do."

Yuuri let out a shuddering breath.

"You're nice to say that. I know that the government here doesn't even acknowledge we are married."

"And that makes everything tougher," the lady detective sighed, "Still, something tells me that you have a strength that is going to carry you through this. Whatever happens, try to remember how lucky you and Mr. Nikiforov were to have each other, even for a short time."

Yuuri gave the detective a wondering look, and she graced him with a gentle smile.

"I had a same sex lover too, once, and lost her to someone who didn't like the way we live."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," Yuuri said sincerely.

"Some days will be hard, but with time, you will learn to push yourself forward. And one more thing."

She squeezed Yuuri's hand warmly.

"Don't forget that when you skate, you remind everyone of him. When my lover was alive, she and I watched Victor skate at every opportunity. She died just after seeing you and Victor together at the China Cup. She said that seeing someone make Victor look like he did the day of the free skate, when he kissed you in front of everyone? It was like falling in love all over again. Whatever happens, keep skating for as long as you can. While you do, you are keeping Victor, and everyone who loves him, alive."

Yuuri nodded.

"Thank you, Detective Orlova."

"Be sure to call me if you remember anything else about the man you saw, or anything that even seems like it might be related. I will inform you if I find anything helpful regarding the arson."

"Thanks again," Yuuri said, walking her to the door.

He waited as she walked out, then closed the door behind her. Maccachin sidled up to him and nuzzled his hand, whimpering.

"Yeah, sorry boy. I know you want Victor to come home. I want that too. I just…I don't know if that's going to happen."

He looked down at the old dog and patted him gently on the head.

"But whatever happens, you've still got me. I'll take care of you."

Maccachin whined again and licked Yuuri's hand, then turned and walked down the hallway, his head and tail hanging.

"Yeah," Yuuri whispered, "me too."

XXXXXXXXXX

Victor complied silently as Pasha led him back into his room and guided him to the bed. As he reached it, his hazy eyes caught sight of the remote control for the TV, sitting where it had been out of his reach before. He waited until Pasha wasn't watching and picked up the device, hiding it under his leg as he climbed up and sat down on the bed. He gave no resistance as his hands were bound again. Pasha picked up the uneaten food and gave Victor a quiet warning before leaving.

"Rest now. I will bring you more food."

Victor waited as he left, then he retrieved the hidden remote and turned the TV on. He found a news station, and waited as the anchors discussed the weather and traffic, then they returned to the local news.

"Police have informed us today that the fire that took place yesterday at the residence of missing skater, Victor Nikiforov, has been ruled a case of arson. Detectives are working closely with Mr. Yuuri Katsuki, who lives and trains with Nikiforov. According to our sources, Mr. Katsuki was able to give police a vague, but useful description of the man a neighbor claims, went into the yard before the fire, and was seen by both the neighbor and Mr. Katsuki, running away from the scene."

Victor turned off the TV and slipped the remote under his pillow. Tears of relief flooded his eyes, and he closed them, breathing slowly.

_You are alive._

_You are alive and you saw him._

_Please, Yuuri, don't give up on me. I'm still here, trying to get back to you and Maccachin. We will be together again, I promise. I will do whatever I have to, to stay alive and to come home to you._

_I love you, Yuuri Katsuki._

_I am so glad you are all right!_


	8. The Place Where We Fell Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pasha begins to come apart mentally as Yuuri moves a step closer to learning Victor is alive.

On the edge of a cliff, alongside the curvy road he and Victor had last traveled together on an ill-fated drive, Yuuri stood solemnly, his hands, face and borrowed jeans and hoodie smudged with dirt from helping in the search for his missing husband. He was sure that his eyes should be filled with tears, but he only gazed down at the long fall and the rushing water beneath the cliff, his heart aching with emptiness.

"Victor," he whispered broken heartedly, "where are you?"

_If he died, wouldn't I feel it inside somewhere? Macca is obviously sad too, but he keeps acting like he's asking me when Victor's coming home. He doesn't seem to feel like Victor died either._

He glanced over at a large boulder, near the road, where the poodle laid on his belly in the shade, his head resting on his paws.

_Yeah, he looks sad, but he looks like he does when he's waiting for Victor to come home. He still looks hopeful. Is that because he just doesn't know better? Or could we both be sensing that Victor is still alive and in trouble somewhere. The problem is that I just don't know where that place could be. If he went over the cliff, he died here. But, if he died, why haven't we found his body? Why haven't we found the driver? And if Victor somehow got out of the car, then which way did he go? We tried tracking him here at the cliff and down below, but the search dogs didn't catch anything._

_What are we doing wrong?_

_What are we missing?_

"Mr. Katsuki," a male voice said from behind him.

_It's the man heading the recovery effort._

_I know why he's here._

_He's here to tell me that they're giving up on him._

"Hmm?"

He sensed that the man wasn't alone, but he continued to look out, over the cliff.

"I am…sorry, sir," the man apologized, "We have searched everywhere that we think he could possibly be. It's getting late. As much as we still want to search for him, I can't allow them to search in the darkness. It would…"

"It would be too dangerous," Yuuri said, his voice oddly calm, "Neither Victor or I would want other people to get hurt. I understand."

The man behind him took a breath and laid a warm hand on Yuuri's shoulder. Yuuri remained perfectly still, as though he didn't feel the touch of the other man at all.

"Some of us still want to keep going, but we have reached the limit of what the helicopter and police searchers can do. I promise you that if you want me to come back and help you look, I will…just as a civilian. Unfortunately, we will be required to report that Victor most likely died in the crash, and his body was carried away in the water. We just can't find evidence that anything else happened."

Yuuri couldn't think of how to answer, so he just nodded silently. But a moment later, he turned to look at the policeman.

"Thank you, for me and for Victor. I appreciate everything everyone has done to try to find him. I know he would too."

He noticed then, that Victor's parents stood behind the policemen, holding each other and blinking back tears. Nearby, Otabek stood with his arms around Yurio, whose face was partially turned away, but Yuuri could see tears were coursing down his cheeks. Minako and Mari stood a short distance away, next to…

"Mom?" Yuuri managed in a choked voice, "Dad? When did you get here?"

_I don't remember that last time I saw my mom cry._

"The authorites here called us," Toshiya answered, hugging his inconsolable wife, "A Detective Orlova, who said that she was leading the investigation of the fire. She…heard that they were going to end the official search, and she thought that you might want us to come."

"Y-you didn't have to do that," Yuuri said softly, "but thanks."

"Where else would we be?" Hiroko said, sniffing, "We love him too, Yuuri."

"Yuuri," Victor's father said solemnly, "I am sorry to have to say this to you, but we've been told that the declaration of death will be issued sometime tomorrow, so, if you have wishes for Victor's memorial, we can meet to discuss them."

_I want to scream at them not to talk about Victor like he's dead, but I know it's not that they are giving up. It's just that there are rules about how disappearances like Victor's are handled. It's not meant to hurt me or to force me to accept that he's dead. It's more to let everyone who loves Victor have some way of celebrating how he has touched their lives. I'll go along with them, but I'm not giving up._

He glanced again at Yurio's half-hidden, anguished face and clenched hands.

_And I think I'm not the only one who will keep searching._

"Yuuri," Victor's mother said, taking his hands in hers and kissing him on the cheek, "you will always be family to us. If you ever need us, we will be here for you."

"Thank you," Yuuri answered in Russian, "from the bottom of my heart."

Victor's mother smiled sadly and her blue-green eyes filled with fresh tears. She hugged Yuuri tightly, whispering into his ear in Russian.

"Dear boy, you are a blessing!"

She squeezed Yuuri's hands, then let go, and she and her husband turned away, heading to their car.

"Yuuri," Mari said softly, "we're all going back to the hotel. You can…come with us, if you want."

"Sure," Yuuri answered numbly, "Okay. Just let me get Maccachin."

He walked over to where the old poodle still laid, next to the boulder. Maccachin looked up at him and thumped his tail on the ground in greeting.

"Come on, boy," Yuuri called to him, forcing a smile, "It's time to go."

The old dog whimpered and made no move to rise. Yuuri frowned.

"Maccachin, we have to go."

He moved closer and pulled gently on the poodle's collar.

"We've got to go home now."

Maccachin whined and pulled against the collar.

"I know you don't want to leave," Yuuri said, patting his head gently and petting his back, "I don't want to either, but it's getting dark and cold out here. We need to go. Look at me," he went on, taking the old dog's face in his hands and gazing into his sad eyes, "I promise we'll come back. Whatever they say, I don't think he's gone, and I don't think you believe he is either. We'll come here together and we'll keep looking for clues. C'mon now, okay?"

He pulled on the dog's collar, and Maccachin whined and stood, following him slowly to the waiting car. Yuuri slid in next to his sister and Maccachin squeezed in between them. He looked back once more as the car began to drive away.

_Victor…I'll come back._

XXXXXXXXXX

Victor heard a small, odd sound, and he turned his head to see Pasha's shape in the darkened doorway. His captor's eyes caught the light from the hallway, and betrayed a look of fear. He crouched and moved to Victor's bedside, panting softly and looking over his shoulder.

"Victor!"

The strange sound of Pasha's voice made the captive skater's heart quicken with anxiety.

_Why is he changing his voice?_

_It sounds kind of like…_

He flinched and quivered as Pasha's sweating hand wrapped around his lower arm.

"Victor!" he called softly again, "Victor, it's me. It's Anton! Don't you recognize me?"

"Anton?" Victor whispered in a confused tone.

Pasha paused and looked down at himself.

"But, you don't recognize me, do you?" he went on in the same strange, scared voice, "I know I look like him. This is his body, but while he's sleeping, I can take over! I can…I want to talk to you, Victor! It's been such a long time since you were here."

Victor drew a shaky breath.

_What is happening to him? He really seems to think he is Anton right now. What do I do?_

"I-it's good to see you," he said tentatively.

Pasha's eyes widened as he looked down at Victor's bound hands.

"But, he's tied you up!" he exclaimed, reaching to free his friend, "There's something wrong with him, Victor. He trapped me inside him. I can't get out. I can only come out while he's sleeping. But I'll help you! What can I do?"

Victor's eyes closed for a moment.

_Is this my chance to escape…or…is he trying to play with me? What are you thinking, Pasha?_

"Shh," Pasha said, pulling Victor to his feet, "come with me."

"Anton," Victor whispered back, "I need to get help."

"I know," Pasha said, nodding, "I'll help you. Come on."

"Is there a phone?" Victor pleaded urgently, "I need to call someone."

Pasha nodded again and put a finger to his lips.

"In his room. Come."

Victor went along, with Pasha holding onto his hand, guiding him along the hallway.

"He keeps it in here."

A little sob escaped Victor as he spotted the phone, sitting on the nightstand in the room. With Pasha at his side, he moved to the nightstand and picked the cell phone up. He dialed Yuuri's number and waited as the phone began to ring. He closed his eyes against rising tears as a click sounded and he heard Yuuri's voice.

"You've reached Yuuri, but I can't talk right now. Leave a message and I'll call you back."

A soft beep sounded, but Victor froze as Pasha's arm wrapped suddenly around his throat, and his other hand held a rag soaked in something foul, over his face. Almost immediately, dizziness swept over him, and his legs began to collapse.

"Y-yuuri!" he gasped through the rag.

He managed a last garbled word as he fell into Pasha's arms, dropping the cell phone. Pasha eased him to the floor, then grabbed the fallen phone and ended the call. He glared down at Victor furiously.

"How did you get free?" he demanded, slapping the unconscious man hard across the cheek, "Did Anton help you?"

He took the cell phone and slammed it against the edge of the nightstand repeatedly, until it was completely useless, then he turned his seething eyes back onto Victor.

"It won't help you anyway!" he hissed scathingly, "It's a black market phone. It won't be connected to me. You see, there's something you don't know about me, Victor."

He grabbed the front of Victor's robe, straddling his limp body as he lifted him slightly off the floor.

"The Pasha you know is _dead_! Even if they think of suspecting me, I faked my death a long time ago. It's easy for me to make a new identity. I did it before, and I can do it again. Do you want me to do that, Victor? Do you want me to kill you and just become somebody else again? Understand, you can't beat me! Not even if Anton helps you. Your fate is in my hands now, Victor! You will die if I want you to die!"

Pasha slipped his hands under Victor's arms and dragged him back down the hall to his room. He set the unconscious man back on the bed, but stiffened as he spotted the partially concealed remote on the bed.

"Oh, so you managed to steal it? Is that why you called Yuuri? Because you learned he wasn't dead? Stupid, stupid Victor! When I finish tying you up again, I'm going back, and I'm going to finish off Yuuri Katsuki for good!"

"N-no…" Victor moaned, opening his eyes into slits and struggling to focus on the man bent over him, "Anton."

Pasha's blue eyes flamed with hatred and he struck the captive skater hard across the face again. Victor grunted and went still. Pasha climbed on top of the unconscious man, straddling his body and closing his hands around Victor's vulnerable throat. He started to squeeze, but froze and stared as he felt the soft, fast throbs of Victor's heartbeat. He blinked in confusion and threw himself off of Victor, landing on the edge of the bed and staring through barely cognizant eyes. His vision wavered and dimmed, and he looked down at his shaking hands, remembering.

_Pasha waited until the dorm rooms were quiet, then he picked up a leather strap and crept out into the hallway. He made his way to the room where his best friend slept, and slipped inside, moving on silent feet. His eyes sad, he walked to the bed and stood for a moment, enjoying the peaceful, beautiful look his friend wore. But Anton's earlier declaration that he was leaving to compete in the domestic championships rang in his mind, making tears leak onto his face._

" _You can't leave," he mouthed, barely audibly, "I won't let you leave me alone here."_

_He watched as Anton turned onto his side, then he pounced and wrapped the strap tightly around his shocked friend's slender neck._

" _N-no, stop!" Anton gasped, his fingers clawing at Pasha's hands, "P-pasha!"_

"No! No, stop it!" Pasha screamed, covering his ears, scrambling away from Victor, off of the bed and placing his back against the wall, "I didn't! I didn't hurt Anton! Anton killed himself because Victor left. He killed himself because Victor left. It's because of Victor!"

His confused eyes found Victor's still body lying on the bed and fresh waves of panic assaulted his mind.

"Victor?" he half-sobbed, "Victor, you can't leave. You can't."

He rushed to the unconscious man's side and shook him gently.

"Victor, wake up! Wake up, Victor!" Pasha pleaded, "Don't leave me, Victor."

Shaky fingers touched Victor's throat, feeling desperately for a pulse.

"You'll be all right," Pasha said, swallowing hard, "J-just rest, and you'll be all right. I'll stay with you. I'll watch over you, Victor. I won't let you kill yourself like Anton did!"

He stared down raptly at Victor's tormented expression, hearing howled accusations echo in his ears.

"No! No, I didn't kill Anton!" he sobbed, "Anton killed himself, because Victor left. I know. I saw. I remember."

He sniffed softly and touched Victor's face gently.

"But you're back now. We can skate together, just like we used to. When you wake up, we'll skate together, Victor. It will be just like old times."

He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a tray of food and cool, damp washcloth. He set the food on the nightstand and sat down next to Victor, washing his face tenderly and smiling as Victor stirred and tried to open his eyes.

"It's okay. I'm here. I won't leave you," Pasha promised.

Victor's eyes cleared slightly, and focused on the man leaning over him.

_Is he Pasha now, or Anton?_

"Are you feeling better, Victor?" Pasha asked, smiling kindly, "You were so very sick. I wondered if I should call someone. But you look better now. How do you feel?"

"M-my head hurts," Victor whispered, blinking slowly as the image of Pasha faded in and out.

"You are probably dehydrated from not drinking and starved from not eating. Here, I made this for you."

He brought a glass of cool water to Victor's lips, but the captive skater turned his head away.

"No. I don't want to sleep anymore," he objected.

"I promise, it won't make you sleep. I'm just trying to help you. Will you eat a little?"

Victor looked back at him warily.

"I'm really worried about you," Pasha insisted, "I swear, I didn't put anything in it. Please eat and drink, Victor."

_I'm so weak now, he probably doesn't need the drugs to keep me under control. I don't know how long it will be until someone comes to help me or when I might escape, so I have to take the risk._

He turned his head back and accepted a mouthful of the cool water, then bites of food that Pasha fed him from a fork.

"You don't have to do that," Victor said more steadily as his mind began to clear, "Even bound, I can feed myself."

"I want to help you," Pasha said, smiling sadly, "I want to take care of you, Victor. Anton left us to become a star. You and I are alone now. We only have each other."

Victor studied him quietly, his mind tormented.

_This is the toll that loneliness and loss can take. Pasha loved Anton, but he didn't have the strength to tell him, and he couldn't bear it when Anton progressed enough to leave, and he was going to be left behind. He killed Anton out of desperation, didn't he? He killed Anton, but Pasha's heart couldn't bear the truth of what he'd done to the one he loved._

_I remember that moment…the one when Yuuri told me that he no longer wanted me to be his coach. I felt my heart breaking apart inside, because we'd come so far together, and I couldn't bear being alone, without Yuuri again. But…if Yuuri had left me, as much as it would have broken me inside, I've learned to be strong through the worst of things._

_Pasha never learned to be strong like that. He grew up poor, with everyone telling him he was nothing. He was a good skater, but hadn't the money or the raw talent to get out of here. He watched how easy it was for me to succeed, because I came from a rich family, and I never had to struggle as he did. No one was there for Pasha, but Anton. Then, Anton was going to leave._

_He did something horrible, and now the pain eats away at his broken heart and torn mind. I don't know how to reach him, but maybe there is a way._

He moved on bound hand so that it rested on one of Pasha's, making his captor pause and gaze at him questioningly.

"Victor?"

"Thank you for taking care of me, Pasha," Victor said gently, "I don't like being alone either."

_I have to keep him calm._

_If he thinks I will stay with him, he will stay calm and he won't hurt me. And if I can't find a way to escape, that will give Yuuri time to hear that message and come for me!_

XXXXXXXXXX

Yuuri undressed and slipped into the new pajamas he had bought, then he wrapped Victor's robe around himself and laid down on the bed in his hotel room. Maccachin jumped up onto the bed and curled up with him, as Yuuri turned to shut off the lamp. He spotted the message light flashing on his phone and sighed, looking at the long list of numbers that had called him.

"It'll tale forever to get through them all," he sighed, "and it's probably just everyone telling me they're sorry."

He shook his head and set the phone back down, then wrapped his arms around the old poodle.

"Tomorrow, there'll be a piece of paper that says that Victor is dead, and in a few days, there will be a funeral. But, you and I aren't giving up. I know there's something that we've all missed. Victor is alive, Maccachin, and somehow…he'll let me know that."


	9. Dancer in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Victor's time counts down, Yuuri makes an important discovery.

****

**(Five days later…)**

Yuuri stood silently in the front row of dark wood pews in a beautiful church in the city of Moscow. Surrounded by his solemn faced parents and sister, Victor's silently crying mother, held close to his tragically sad looking father, and ringed by an overwhelming number of friends who filled the church to its capacity and spilled outside to where monitors had been placed for those who could not fit inside, Yuuri wore a quiet, sad expression, his mind refusing to take part in what was going on around him.

_Victor's not dead._

_I'm not sure why I feel that way. All of the evidence points to him being dead. None of the searches turned up anything useful. And finally, the police and rescue groups had to give up. I still go out to that place every day. I take Maccachin with me, and we look, up on the cliff and down where the car was found. I walk along the side of the water, as far as I can and look for any sign he might have crawled out, trying to reach safety. I've never found a thing to support this feeling I have that Victor is still alive, but I feel like he is. Whatever Otabek, Yurio, Yakov, Georgi and Mila might feel, they are out there with me, helping me look. They say that they'll go there with me anytime I want to go. They don't care if everyone else in the world thinks Victor is dead. They don't care if the reality is, he might be. What they care about is letting me feel like I've done everything I can, so that if Victor never comes back, they won't lose me too._

_Even I know that's a danger._

_Lots of people in my situation get clinically depressed, and their lives fall apart when they lose their partner. Being in Russia, I could have had everything taken away, but when the government ruled that I was Victor's student and could not inherit as Victor's legal partner, his parents inherited his money and possessions, and they turned everything over to me anyway._

Yuuri's eyes fixed on the coffin that held a few keepsakes and a packet containing some of Victor's long, silver hair, taken when he had it cut before entering the senior men's division.

_I get why we had to do this. Victor is loved by people all around the world. When he disappeared, they were shocked, and when he was declared dead, many of them were on the news, crying and hugging each other, devastated that he's gone. Victor always taught me that it's important to appreciate the people who love you and cheer you on, the ones who tune in to see you in competition, and watch you on TV or read magazine articles about you. Their affection is a beautiful thing. It feels good to know that people around the world know your face and your name, and they appreciate your talent. He would want this to help his family, his friends, and his fans to grieve in a way you can't if there's no celebration._

_The flags in all of Russia, today, were lowered to half staff for him._

_And amidst all of this, I can't feel anything but numbness inside. I haven't been able to cry. I'm only standing here and not out searching for him, because I need to do this for him._

_When it's over, I'll go and look for him again._

He felt a soft vibration of the cell phone in his pocket and sighed.

_There must be a million messages piled up in there._

_I should go through them, but I don't want to hear people say to me how sad they are that he's gone. I suppose I will go through them and be sure to thank them in some way. It'll be something to do with the empty hours when I'm not training or searching for Victor._

Yuuri listened silently as the prayers and blessings continued, and music played, and lovely voices rose to celebrate the life of a sports legend the world would never see compete again. As the music played, video of Victor's programs from over the years played in the background, tracing his earliest days as a child prodigy, to the masterful entertainer everyone knew and loved. Friends and relatives went up to the front of the old church, some holding back tears and some crying openly as they spoke about their memories of Victor. When Yuuri's turn came, he walked to the front, quiet and composed, and he managed to keep his voice from shaking as he addressed everyone.

"I would like to thank everyone here for coming to celebrate my husband, Victor's, life and accomplishments. Victor is, and will always be, my greatest inspiration. A few years ago, Victor was sitting alone, atop the skating world. A five time world champion, he suddenly found himself looking for new inspiration. And by some miracle, that was when Victor saw a video of me performing his free skate program, and he decided to go to Hasetsu to coach me. Understand that I couldn't be more happy that it all happened. These past few years with Victor have been the most beautiful thing I can imagine. I love and treasure every moment of our time together. But even so…if it meant that I could undo what's happened to him, if I could erase it all by just giving up those few years…"

Yuuri paused, his eyes finally filling with tears and his voice shaking as he continued.

"Maybe I shouldn't say it," he managed more softly, "but I would give it all up, just to have him come back. Victor's life is a gift to the world, not just to me. And even though I have to go on without him for now, I know I won't be alone. Neither are any of you. Wherever you go, there are many, many people whose hearts are hurting over this too. Victor would say to reach out to them, hold them, treasure them. This…is Victor's greatest legacy. Thank you for sharing in it."

As he finished speaking, Yuuri started down from the podium, his eye catching faces in the crowd. He blinked slowly, hearing little sobs and soft voices. He wasn't sure why, but one face in the crowd drew his gaze to it, and Yuuri found himself taken back to that moment, just before they had left their home together for the last time.

_The guy in our wedding photo? That is him…_

Yuuri's feet stopped moving as his mind was seized with a sudden, gripping flash of memory.

_Kazimir pulled the car to the side of the road and moved to the door on Yuuri's side of the car. He pulled the door opened and leaned in. Yuuri's hand grabbed his wrist and he gasped in dismay at the cold expression the driver wore. He squinted, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe._

_"Wh-what are you doing?" Yuuri panted dazedly._

_Kazimir's blue eyes went deadly._

_"You're too much trouble. I was just going to send you over the edge in the car, but you require a more personal approach."_

_Kazimir's arm took hold of Yuuri and he dragged the struggling skater out of the car, ignoring his weak objections. He dragged the young man to the edge of the cliff and pushed him over, watching as Yuuri's body tumbled down the incline and disappeared into the brush that preceded the large drop Kazimir had seen._

"Yuri, dear, are you all right?" his mother's garbled voice said worriedly.

Yuuri looked again at the man in the crowd, his mind reeling.

_The driver?_

_Kazimir?_

_He…threw me over the cliff?_

_But, then what happened? If he threw me over the cliff, then what did Kazimir do to Victor?_

Yuuri's mind spun harder, until there was a loud ringing in his ears, and his legs began to collapse.

"Yuuri!" his mother and sister called frantically, dashing into the aisle as Yuuri started to fall.

XXXXXXXXXX

The now familiar sound of Pasha's footsteps reached Victor's ears through the noise of the television his captor had left on to let him see the remembrances that were taking place around the world for him. Pasha smiled as he entered the room, still dressed in the handsome suit he had worn to the funeral.

"Were you watching, Victor?" he said, smirking, "It was beautiful, wasn't it? And Yuuri was so devoted in his words about you. You know, it made me cry a little?"

"You are a monster, torturing everyone like that, especially Yuuri," Victor said in a low, angry voice, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I should be ashamed of myself?" Pasha repeated mockingly, "Me, Victor? This, from the man who shamelessly played on their emotions over the years to make them love you? When you did not care for a single one of them, but just used them to elevate yourself above everyone else? When you pretended they meant something to you, but only as long as the cameras were focused on you?"

"That's not true," Victor said firmly, "I have always known and appreciated that I would not have become the skater I am, without all of those people. And you, Pasha, you were one of them! Why, Pasha? Why would you do something like this? Why would you take me away from them? Why would you hurt them, letting them think I am dead? And why would you torture Yuuri? What did my husband ever do to you?"

"What did Yuuri do to me?" Pasha asked coldly, "He didn't die. I dragged him out of the limousine and I threw Yuuri Katsuki over a cliff. I did this to spare him, because, like you, I thought he was innocent, Victor. He didn't need to suffer so much. He could have just died there, innocent and untroubled by everything. He fought me, and because he resisted, he is hurting now. He deserves to hurt for defying me."

Victor's frown deepened, and his heart ached as Yuuri's face was shown on the television, and a recording played back his soulful message.

_The news said that Yuuri fainted after giving that speech. He was taken to a hospital, but was released again, thank god. He's with his family now and resting._

"Victor," Pasha said solemnly, "you and I should really talk about what we should do next."

Victor looked up at him questioningly.

"You have me tied up, out here where no one will ever find me," Victor said in a purposely defeated tone, "You went back and stood right in front of them, and they didn't recognize you. You've gotten away with everything, and you have me trapped here. What more do you want?"

Pasha smiled and Victor felt a chill run down his back.

"I want what I've always wanted," he answered, reaching out and releasing Victor from his bonds, "I want you to skate with me. Come, let's celebrate. After today, no one, not even your Yuuri will think you are alive anymore. After today, you are completely mine, Victor."

"Is that what happened to Anton too?" Victor said sadly, "Did you make him completely yours also? Is that what you plan for me, Pasha? You will use me for your fun for awhile, and then you will kill me?"

Pasha gave him an eerily untroubled smile.

"I didn't kill Anton," he insisted, nothing but calm in his voice, "Anton killed himself, because you left us, Victor. Don't worry, though. It's all right. Now that you are mine, Victor, you will never leave us again!"

 _That's it, then_ , Victor mused inwardly, as Pasha helped him to his feet, _The clock is ticking. I am too weak now to escape him. If no one is looking for me, and I do not find the strength to fight him, I am going to die. I have to convince my body to be stronger. I have to find a way to get out._

_I don't want to die._

_I want to go home._

_I want to see Yuuri and to hold him in my arms again._

"Come, Victor. I have a surprise for you."

Victor felt a stabbing fear pierce his insides.

_Wait._

_Is he going to do it now?_

_Now that he thinks he has won, is Pasha going to kill me?_

"Come, Victor," Pasha repeated, taking his hand and helping the unsteady skater to his feet, "Come with me."

He led Victor to his own room, where he had laid out on the bed an eye catching red and blue costume.

_Oh please, that's not…is it Anton's?_

Fresh chills ran through him as Pasha's arms wrapped around him, and he had to suppress a strong urge to fight them.

_I can't panic. If I panic, I may never get another chance to escape him. I have to play along with him, and somehow…somehow, I have to find the strength to overcome him._

_The world thinks I'm dead. Even my Yuuri thinks I'm dead. The only one who can save my life now…is me._

_Oh god, I really am alone, aren't I?_

"You see, I made this for you," Pasha said, holding him from behind.

"Pasha, are you all right?" Victor asked, his throat tightening.

"I'm fine," Pasha assured him, gently kissing the back of his neck, "I just wanted you to have this for your debut."

"M-my…?"

"It will look beautiful on you. Go on, put it on. Here, I'll help you."

Victor swallowed hard, forcing himself to cooperate quietly as Pasha's hands bared him, then dressed him in the lovely costume. His captor stood back as Victor looked into the mirror and horrified tears ran down his face.

_The last person who wore this was our friend, Anton, and he wore it just before Pasha killed him. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to escape him. God, please help me think of something!_

"I see you're overcome by its beauty," Pasha said appreciatively, "But it is only really bringing out your own. You were meant for this…for fame and fortune. And when you leave me and go out into the world, that's what you'll find. Just don't forget me, okay? When you leave this poor town and become a star, remember Pasha, your friend."

He led Victor to the ice rink and motioned for him to sit. He brought out a pair of ice skate that Victor had never seen, but carefully kept and perfectly cared for, professional skates.

"I bought these for you," he gushed, placing the skates, one by one on Victor's feet and tying them into place, "They will be so much better for your competitions. Give them a try, okay?"

He helped Victor to his feet, then stood, smiling and seeming not to see what was really in front of him.

"You look so beautiful in those. No, don't thank me. Well, thank me by honoring me with a kiss."

"Pasha…" Victor whispered, stiffening.

But he dared not move as the other man's lips touched his very gently.

"I know you are shocked," Pasha went on, "but it's time for you to know. I love you, and I have always loved you!"

He nodded in the direction of the ice rink and curled an arm around Victor, guiding him onto the ice.

"Dance with me now, please, my sweet _Anton_."

XXXXXXXXXX

Yuuri rested against a pile of pillows in his bed at the Moscow hotel where his family was staying. He could hear the soft voices outside his partially open door, but quietly ignored them. His mind whirled as he thought back again to what he had remembered upon seeing the familiar man's face in the audience.

_I couldn't tell them, because right now, I'm not sure if what I saw was real or if it was my mind playing tricks on me. But, I think I remember the driver taking me out of the car and throwing me over the cliff. It still doesn't prove Victor is alive, but it does mean that my memory may be coming back. I think in the morning, I'll call the detective who is helping me with the investigation of the fire. She seems sympathetic. At least, she'll be honest with me about how real all of this could be._

He sighed softly.

"Tomorrow, then," he whispered, picking up his phone from the nightstand.

_I guess, since I can't sleep, I should start going through all of the messages that have piled up._

He placed his earbuds into his ears and dialed his voicemail to start the messages playing. He listened absently, letting the heartfelt words reverberate in his ears. Voices of family and friends echoed in his mind lovingly. But there was only one voice he wanted to hear, one that might never speak into his ear again. He almost thought he could hear it.

Then, suddenly, he realized he had.

Yuuri sat straight up in his bed, touching a button to replay the message that had caught his attention.

"Y-yuuri!" Victor's garbled voice gasped, as though in a panic.

He heard another word that he couldn't make out, then another voice registered in the background.

"How did you get free? Did Anton help you?"

"Anton?" Yuuri repeated, shaking his head, "Who is Anton?"

Yuuri's eyes rounded as full realization swept over him, bringing him to his feet.

"Victor!" he gasped, "Victor, you're alive!"


	10. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Yuuri nears answers, Victor's situation becomes critical.

Yuuri hurried out of the airport with Yurio and Otabek on his heels, and he quickly flagged down a taxi. The cab slowed and stopped in front of the three.

"Th-the police station. Downtown," Yuuri panted, "Please hurry!"

"I've got you covered," the cabbie assured him.

The car sped through the busy streets, weaving through the traffic as the three in the back watched out the window.

"So, are you sure about this, pork cutlet bowl?" Yurio asked, "You're sure that it was Victor's voice you heard on the message?"

"I'm sure," Yuuri answered resolutely, "Here, listen."

He put the message on speakerphone, playing it back for the other two men. At the sound of it, Yurio's face paled.

"Damn it. You're right. No doubt about that. It's Victor's voice all right."

"And it's obvious," Yuuri added, "that someone abducted him, and is holding him against his will."

"It sounds like he managed to get free for a moment, so he could call you," Otabek observed.

"But the call came in five days ago," Yuuri said worriedly, "I feel so stupid. I'd stopped checking my messages because there were so many people calling to comfort me. I got overwhelmed."

"Well, you know now."

"And we're going to use this message to find this creep who took Victor!" Yurio exclaimed, "They'll be able to track the call."

"That's what I was thinking," Yuuri agreed.

The cab pulled up in front of the police department and the three men rushed out of the vehicle and inside, to the front desk.

"This is Yuuri Katsuki," Yurio told the desk clerk in Russian, "Detective Orlova is expecting him."

The desk clerk nodded.

"Her office is down that hallway, second door on the left," he directed them.

The three hurried down the hallway and found the lady detective waiting at her desk. She looked up at the three as they entered, then stood and greeted them.

"Mr. Katsuki, I've passed on the information you gave me, and I initiated a search to first, identify the owner of the number that called your cellphone, and second, to track it's location."

"Were you able to figure out who took Victor?" Yuuri asked quickly, "Do you know where the call came in from?"

The detective frowned.

"Unfortunately, the phone turned out to be a black market phone, of a kind that criminals often use to contact each other for shady dealings. Based on what you told me, I anticipated this could be the case, and it turns out I was right. There isn't a registered owner for the number."

"What about the place where the call was made?" Yurio asked, scowling, "Did you trace the call?"

"We are working on it," Orlova explained, "In these cases, we usually don't have too much trouble convincing the phone company to give us the information. While they have privacy rules for legally obtained phone numbers, these black market devices are the bane of their existence, so they usually cooperate with law enforcement to try to get the phones out of use. As soon as I provided the phone company with an official request, they attempted to locate the phone. Unfortunately, whoever has it, seems to have turned the device off or otherwise disabled it. They are working on tracking the specific location the call was made from, using information from their cellular towers. The information will be relayed to me as soon as there is any word."

"Well, at least that's something," Yuuri said sadly.

"I have taken a recording of the call and cleared up the audio."

The detective tapped at the keys on her computer for a moment, then played back the recorded message as the three young men listened.

"You say you are completely certain that this is your husband?" she asked Yuuri.

"Yeah," Yuuri answered firmly, "There's no question in my mind. That's Victor's voice. I would know."

Orlova nodded.

"The computer agrees with you. Based on analysis from samples I took from some of his interviews, there was a perfect match. The tone and stresses in his voice make him sound tired, something that could be from distress, exhaustion or both."

"Well," said Otabek, "someone's held him hostage for over a week. That would be distressing for anyone."

"I did notice that Victor said Yuuri's name, then he appeared to try to say something else before the phone was taken from him."

"We listened to that a hundred times," Yuuri said anxiously, "and we couldn't understand it."

"I thought he might have been cursing," Yurio speculated.

"I was able to clean up the audio enough to pick out the word. What he said was _chameleon_."

"Huh," Yurio huffed, "like the lizard thing that changes colors?"

"Yes," Orlova affirmed, "and that got me to thinking."

The detective produced a sketched picture of a man.

"This is the man who you described to our sketch artist, the one who you saw when you were trapped in your home, during the arson fire."

"That's right," Yuuri replied, shivering slightly as he studied the sketch.

"You think that the fire and Victor's disappearance are connected?" Otabek asked, "I mean, that's what we think, but we weren't sure."

"Well, nothing is completely certain yet, but when you put together the fact that Victor Nikiforov was abducted in a way meant to make it look as though he had died, and that he has been kept alive…and during the time he was kept alive, his house was burned down with you trapped in it, the whole situation is very suspicious and clearly indicates that the person who abducted Victor wants something, and he is keeping Victor alive until he has that thing."

"But, what could he want?" Yuuri asked, shaking his head in confusion, "and if he took Victor, trying to get something, then why did he fake Victor's death? Wouldn't it make more sense that if he wanted something like money, he would…I don't know, take someone Victor cared about or at least send us a ransom note?"

"What the person wants doesn't have to be a physical thing," Orlova explained, "The situation doesn't suggest that this was about money. If it was, as you said, there were more efficient ways to get it. This person took Victor and faked his death. Then, it appears that a few days later, he tried to kill you, Yuuri, by burning the house while you were inside. The final report concluded that this was a blatant act of arson, and that the fire was set in several places, as though the perpetrator was purposely trying to trap you inside. That he stood and looked you in the eyes, ignoring your cries for help suggests that he did not want or expect you to live."

"So, you think that Yuuri saw Victor's captor?" Yurio asked.

"Yes, I am convinced that the man who set the fire is also the man who abducted Victor. The important thing now is to try to identify this man. So, Yuuri, is there anything else you can tell me, either about the man you saw or the events of what we now believe was a staged accident?"

"I did remember something," Yuuri said, a touch of uncertainty in his voice, "Well, I'm not sure if it's a real memory or not, but I did recall something that may have been from the accident. I mean, it feels like a memory, but it's hazy and the voices I hear in it are garbled."

"What did you remember?"

"W-well, I thought that I heard the voice of the driver from that night," Yuuri explained, "and I felt him grabbing and dragging me out of the car. In this vision I saw, he threw me over the edge!"

"When did you first have this recollection? And how many times have you had it?" Orlova inquired.

"Ah, well…I've only seen it once in my head."

"Good, tell me about when that happened," the detective urged him.

"It was during Victor's funeral," Yuuri recounted, "I uh…I spotted a guy in the crowd who I didn't recognize, but he looked like this guy from Victor's and my wedding. It was a guy I didn't know who I saw in one of our wedding photographs. I don't know if it's related, it just…triggered that vision."

"Hmm, can you compare the driver of the limousine from the night of the accident to that person in the wedding photo?

The detective called up a picture of Kazimir onto her computer screen, then placed the sketch the police artist had drawn, next to it.

"Both have sharp, angular features," Orlova pointed out.

"One has dark hair and one light," Yuuri mused, "The driver wore big dark sunglasses. We never saw his eyes."

"Now, you said that there is a photograph of the man you saw in the crowd at the funeral?"

"Yeah, in my wedding album," Yuuri answered, "That was one of the only things that survived the fire."

"Where is the album?"

"I left it at the hotel in Moscow," Yuuri sighed, "but I have all of the pictures stored on the photographer's site!"

He removed his phone from his pocket and quickly called up the wedding photos, then searched them until he found the photo with the mysterious man in it. Detective Orlova took the phone from Yuuri and held it up next to the picture of Kazimir, then the sketch the police artist had made.

"He went to some effort to hide it, but I do see some sharp similarities. This is the same man in all three places."

"So, Kazimir, the driver, was the one who took Victor?" Yuuri exclaimed.

"Yes," Orlova confirmed, "And the word that Victor said, chameleon, makes sense, as this man can change his appearance enough that we had a hard time recognizing him. All of the clues so far, suggest that Victor knows the man who abducted him, and that this was a calculated act that was carefully planned."

"Our usual driver got sick that night, very suddenly," Yuuri recalled.

"I guess we know who's responsible for that," Yurio huffed, "the bastard."

"Yuuri, I am going to send some agents to go back to the scene of the accident. Now that we know that you were removed from the car and thrown over the edge, we need to revisit that whole area, looking this time, only at the top of the cliff. If Victor is alive and he was abducted, then he didn't go over the cliff with the car…and the perpetrator had to have had a second car stashed somewhere nearby. We've had mostly good weather since the accident, so if there are clues, we should be able to find them."

"I want to go up there with them!" Yuuri exclaimed.

"I have another job for you," the detective suggested, "I want you to try to contact as many of the people from your wedding as possible. Have them look at the man in the picture and send them the picture of the driver. See if anyone can identify this man. Tell them that he is skillful at hiding his identity, so they may have to think a little. Can you do that? It would help a lot in the investigation. Our department could do it, but I think you can do it faster."

"I'll do it!" Yuuri promised, "I'll do it right away."

"We'll help you," Yurio added, glancing at Otabek, "Between the three of us, we'll get it done even faster."

"Every moment counts," the detective said solemnly, "because from the way this looks to me, as soon as the perpetrator has what he wants from Victor Nikiforov, he will take Victor's life, and he will try to hide the body, so Victor is never found."

"We're going to figure this out first!" Yuuri said determinedly.

"Mr. Katsuki," the detective said sternly, "I am warning you now that if you find anything useful, get the information quickly to me. Under no circumstances are you to try to find Mr. Nikiforov yourself. This man is very dangerous. If you involve yourself directly, there is a high likelihood that he would kill you. He has already tried, so I am telling you now that you must let us handle it."

"Okay," Yuuri said, nodding, "but let's go, guys. We've got work to do!"

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm so sorry, Pasha," Victor said penitently as his captor helped him to his feet and brushed the flakes of ice from his legs, "I am trying so hard, but I'm not feeling so well. I feel dizzy. That's why I keep falling. I will…try again."

"No," Pasha said, sympathetically, "Anton, it's not your fault."

He looked around the rink and made a sound of disgust.

"It wouldn't be happening if we had enough food, warmer clothes and a better place to practice," he said angrily, "If we weren't poor, then we would be skating in the competitions already with Victor!"

He lowered his eyes and his voice grew angrier.

"I hate him for leaving."

"I know you do," Victor said, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "but Pasha, you know it wasn't Victor's choice to stay or go. His skating rink was repaired, so he went home."

"He promised he would keep in touch, but he never calls."

"No," Victor said more softly, "he doesn't. A good friend would call. Maybe he still will. We should keep practicing. It will pass the time."

Pasha gave him a worried look.

"I don't think you should skate anymore today, Anton. You look very pale, but your cheeks are red."

He moved closer and felt Victor's forehead and face.

"I think you have a fever, Anton!"

"I do feel pretty worn out," Victor answered.

"You should lie down. I will make you some soup and tea. We at least have that."

"That would be good," Victor sighed wearily, "I'll go and lie down."

To Victor's surprise, Pasha nodded and turned away, leaving him alone on the ice.

_Everything in me wants to try to run again. I know that he will kill me soon if I stay. I have to do something. If only my head would stop hurting so I could think!_

He watched Pasha disappear into the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

_When I ran before, I realized that Pasha made sure that there was only one way out. I was easy to follow. And once outside, there was nowhere for me to go, no one was nearby to find me. But…what if I only make it look like I left? What if I trick him into thinking I've gone outside, then I tie the door with something, so that he can't get back inside I don't know what I would do after that, though. He destroyed his cell phone, so there's no way to call for help. We are in a run down industrial area, far from any safe place._

_God, I don't know what to do!_

Victor ran a hand over his face, only to find that his hand and arm were as sweaty and hot as his face. His heart skipped oddly, and his legs felt suddenly weak.

_This isn't like when he was drugging me. I really am running a fever. I hurt all over. Maybe the stress and the poor conditions here are making me ill. I don't know. I feel…_

He headed for the edge of the rink on quivering legs, but collapsed just short of the wall. He came down on his belly and slid for a moment, before coming to a stop. He laid still on the ice for several minutes before Pasha's fast footsteps approached, and his captor returned to the rink, looking around with furious eyes.

"Where are you?" Pasha howled, looking around with round, hateful eyes, "Victor, you LIAR! YOU SAID THAT YOU WOULDN'T LEAVE ME!"

His chest heaved and his hands clenched as he glared into the ice rink, and his gaze fell on Victor's collapsed body. For a moment, the vision of his former friend, lying facedown and unmoving made his mind freeze and he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. Visions of Victor's unconscious body laying on the ice shifted back and forth, transposing themselves with the macabre sight of Anton's strangled body lying on the dead skater's bed. Pasha's mind spun dangerously, and he fell on his knees at Victor's side, his body shaking as he grabbed at the beautiful costume.

"V-victor?" he sobbed uncertainly.

He shook his head, his body quaking visibly.

"Anton? What is happening? What do I do?"

He shook Victor roughly, bringing the skater to semiconsciousness.

"P-pasha," Victor moaned in a faltering voice, "I need help! You h-have to bring someone. P-please, Pasha. I think that I'll…Pasha, I don't want to die!"

Pasha stared in surprise at Victor, his stymied mind trying to make sense of the words. Very slowly, a look of cognizance blossomed on his face, and he lifted his sick captive into his arms.

"I didn't understand, at first," he said softly, carrying Victor back to the bedroom and laying him on the bed.

With trembling hands, he fastened the restraints, then he left for a moment and returned with a bottle of dark liquid and a cool, damp washcloth. He raised Victor's head and coaxed him into accepting a small amount of medication, then he washed Victor's sweating face tenderly.

"I do understand now," he went on, "Anton and I had to be very strong to survive on so little…but having very little, taught us to be survivors. Victor, you always had everything you needed. You didn't have to struggle to survive, so when I took everything away from you, you got lost and your strength faded. But…you know what you need now."

"Pasha…" Victor moaned deliriously, "you have to go for help. I really think I am dying. Please, Pasha…"

"Don't you worry, Victor," Pasha whispered into his ear, curling up to his captive's side, "Just stay with me a little longer. Then…I'll make sure that you are never left alone. After tonight, we will burn all of this suffering away…and then, you, Anton and I will be together forever!"


	11. Burning Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescuers race to find Victor as Pasha attempts to carry out his deadly plan.

Yuuri sat on a soft couch in Yurio and Otabek's Saint Petersburg apartment, absently petting Maccachin's head, where it rested in his lap. His other hand quickly dialed a number on his cell phone, and he waited as the phone rang several times before being picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mari-nee-chan," the skater greeted his sister, "how was the flight back to Japan?"

"Oh, it went fine," Mari answered, "There were no problems. Mom and Dad are really sad about Victor. We all are. Minako's been over here, trying to cheer everyone up, but it seems like the whole country's in mourning. Seriously, Yuuri, everywhere you go, here, there are signs and billboards with his picture. Everyone's talking about him."

"Yeah," Yuuri sighed sadly, "it's like that here too. This is Victor's home. They've lowered the flags to half staff and it's on every station on TV."

"I'm…I mean, all of us, here, are really sorry."

"I know, thanks," Yuuri said sincerely, "Um, Mari, the reason I called is that Detective Orlova, who is handling the arson case, asked me to try to find out if anyone knows someone who is a suspect in the setting of the fire."

"Okay, so how can we help? Is there something we need to do?"

"Yeah, actually. She thinks it will help if you look at some pictures I'm sending you. The first is a sketch of the guy who I saw the day of the fire, while I was trapped in the house. The second is a photo of a guy who was at Victor's and my wedding. So far, no one here seems to know the guy, so we're wondering if he's connected. There is a third picture, too. The thing is, Detective Orlova pointed out that she thinks all three are the same person, and that he is able to change his appearance so that people don't recognize him."

"That's so strange," Mari mused, "and really creepy. Do you mean that this guy may have been stalking Victor?"

"Yeah," Yuuri affirmed, "that's what Detective Orlova thinks. And, Mari, something else she thinks is that the driver who took over for our usual driver the day of the accident, may also have been the guy who was stalking Victor."

"What?" his sister exclaimed, "Yuuri…!"

"If that's true," Yuuri went on, "there's a chance that Victor never went over the cliff, and neither did the driver of the limousine. If he did…"

"Then, it wasn't an accident at all," his shocked sibling concluded, "They think someone kidnapped Victor!"

"Yeah. Look, you can't say anything where it will get out, but there's still a chance that Victor is alive. The problem is, Detective Orlova is worried by the fact that the perpetrator took Victor in a way that made it look like he was already dead. There was no ransom demand, or other attempt to contact anyone to ask for anything, so they think this was personal, and that Victor knew the one who took him."

"So, the picture you're sending, may be the kidnapper?"

"Yes, and if we don't find Victor in time, if he isn't already dead now, his captor is going to kill him and try to make it so we _never_ find him! So, I need to you to quietly show the pictures to everyone who you can find who was at our wedding. Mom, Dad, Minako, Yuko, Takeshi…everyone."

"Okay, okay, Yuuri, I'll go to everyone right away. God, if Victor is alive…"

"He's in real trouble," Yuuri said worriedly, "We have to find him, and we have to do it quickly."

"Well, you know that we'll do everything we can," his sister promised.

"Thanks."

Yuuri touched the button to end the call as Otabek and Yurio entered the room. Otabek set a fresh cup of tea in front of Yuuri, and the two sat down in chairs in front of him.

"Did you finish calling everyone on your list?" Yuuri asked.

"Yeah," Yurio answered in a frustrated tone, "No one seemed to recognize the guy from the pictures. We're still waiting for Yakov to call back. We haven't heard from him."

"Did you have any luck with anyone in Japan?" Otabek asked, slipping a hand into Yurio's.

"Not yet," Yuuri reported, "but Mari's going around to everyone now to show them the pictures. I guess we'll see."

Yuuri's phone rang suddenly, and he touched a button to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Yuuri, this is Detective Orlova," the voice on the other end said urgently, "I wanted to contact you right away, because there has been a development in Victor's case, and the case of the arson."

"What is it?" Yuuri asked urgently, "What did you find? Did you find Victor?"

"We didn't find your husband, but we did find more clues at the place where the limousine went over the cliff."

"Really? What did you find out?"

"There was a boulder near the accident site, where one of our search dogs hit on your husband's scent."

"A boulder," Yuuri repeated, frowning thoughtfully, "You mean that one that Macca's been…"

"I said the same thing to myself when we realized," the detective reported, "that your dog had been drawn to that spot before."

"I thought he was just lying there because it was shady!" Yuuri chided himself, "I was so stupid! Macca smelled Victor's scent there!"

"That is most probable, but don't blame yourself. We didn't think to look there before either. Also, we had the search dog look for the driver, Kazimir's scent too. We hadn't done that when we were just focused on finding Mr. Nikiforov, because, at the time, we didn't suspect abduction. The dog hit in that place on the driver's scent too."

"Which means that neither one was in the car when it went over the cliff!" Yuuri exclaimed.

"We tracked from that point, and we were able to find a faint trail that led to where it seems a car was concealed in brush at the side of the road. We've identified the probable type of vehicle, and have confirmed that the driver, Kazimir, owns a vehicle matching that description. Immediately, we went and searched his home. Yuuri, I won't lie to you. There were pictures of this man, but with light colored hair, and he looked more like the picture of the man from your wedding photograph. There were also pictures, a lot of them, of another skater. The man's name is Anton Akimov. Anton was an aspiring skater in Saint Petersburg, who disappeared a long time ago. We examined the photos, and found that our _chameleon_ , as Victor called him, may be another skater named Pasha Markov."

A knocking on the apartment door made Yuuri startle, and Yurio rose and walked to the door as Yuuri continued to speak to the detective.

"We haven't yet established exactly how Victor met or interacted with Pasha or Anton. Neither one of the two ever entered major competitions with Victor, and both of them disappeared while Victor was a junior skater. We are focusing on that time period and trying to uncover information. I will call you when we have more to give you. We are working as fast as we can. If you uncover any information about those pictures, please call me as soon as possible. Every moment counts now. We just don't know how long Victor's captor will keep him alive."

"We'll be in touch as soon as we learn anything!" Yuuri exclaimed, "Thank you."

He ended the call, looking up as Yurio returned alongside a concerned looking Yakov.

"Yakov!" Yuuri greeted him anxiously, "we were looking for you."

"I know. I got the pictures that you sent me."

"Did you recognize the man in the photos?" Yuuri inquired.

"Maybe, but I'm not sure," Yakov said, frowning and rubbing his chin, "He looks something like a skater who practiced with Victor once when we had to go to another rink because ours was fire damaged."

"Whoa, wait!" Yuuri gasped, staring, "I just talked to Detective Orlova, and she told me that they think Victor knew his abductor. They found more clues at the crash site that led them to search our driver's home, and they found pictures of Victor all over the place, as well as pictures of two skaters, Anton Akimov and Pasha Markov. Are either of them the person you saw in the pictures I gave you?"

"The man in those pictures is Pasha Markov," Yakov said with certainty, "I'd bet my life on it."

"Oh my god," Yuuri breathed, his heart pounding, his trembling fingers beginning to dial on his cell phone, "So, they knew each other during Victor's junior years?"

He paused as someone answered his call.

"Detective Orlova please!"

"Our rink was damaged, so we were forced to train at a facility in South Central Saint Petersburg. The rink closed years ago. That whole area is run down. There's nothing there now."

The four men in the room went silent, staring at each other as an idea occurred to them.

_That would be a perfect place to hide Victor from everyone!_

"Detective Orlova."

"This is Yuuri Katsuki," Yuuri said excitedly, "Detective Orlova, Victor's coach, Yakov, has just told us that he recognizes the guy in the photos as a skater Victor knew. Pasha Markov! We know he took Victor, and we think he may have taken Victor to…"

"To South Central Ice, the abandoned ice rink," Yakov supplied.

"South Central Ice," Yuuri relayed, "It's closed down, but it's in an abandoned part of the city."

"I know the area," Orlova assured him, "I will send officers now to the scene. I will call when there is news. Sit tight now."

Yuuri ended the call and his dark worried eyes met those of the others.

"She's sending officers," he told them, "but…"

"But we're pretty close to the area," Yakov said, glancing at the others, "We shouldn't interfere, but we should take Yuuri there…to be available to the detective for…whatever happens."

Yuuri shivered.

"Victor's running out of time. I need to be there for him."

"Then, we're going," said Yurio, "All of us. Come on!"

The four raced out of the room with Maccachin on their heels, barking excitedly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Victor woke to find himself dripping with sweat and sick to his stomach, Pasha laid beside him, running a cool cloth over his face as Victor shivered and coughed.

"P-pasha, I have to throw up," the captive skater pleaded in a shaky voice.

"Let me help you," Pasha offered, releasing him from the bonds.

He wrapped an arm around Victor, helping him to his feet and guiding him the bathroom, where Victor collapsed onto his knees and heaved into the toilet, then suffered a bout of rattling coughs.

"I'm so dizzy," Victor whispered, leaning against the other man.

"I've got you. You'll be all right," Pasha assured him, "Let's get you back to bed."

Victor took a breath and coughed again, then he sniffed the air, and a look of fear rose in his eyes.

"Pasha, I smell fire," he managed breathlessly.

"That's right," his captor said calmly, helping Victor to his feet and turning him back towards the bedroom, "It is time, Victor. Let's go and lie down together. Anton is waiting for us."

"Anton is dead," Victor managed, coughing harder, "P-pasha, what did you do? You set this place on fire? We have to get out of here!"

"No," Pasha said firmly, pulling harder at Victor as the shaky skater set his feet and began to struggle, "Relax, Victor. It will be over soon, now. We are going to Anton. We are going now."

"You're crazy!" Victor screamed, shoving him away and falling onto his hands and knees, "Get away from me!"

He screamed again as Pasha's arms wrapped around him, throwing him against the wall. Victor squirmed free as his captor's hands tried to grasp his sweat slicked body. He scrambled down the hallway, pushing his ailing body until spots danced in front of his eyes.

"You're not leaving us!" Pasha howled, running after him, coughing heavily as the thick smoke filled the hallway, "Come back, Victor!"

Victor kept his body close to the floor, burying his face in a clothed arm as he dragged himself down the hallway, heading for the doors he had escape through before. Behind him, Pasha fell onto his hands and knees, coughing and sputtering as he continued to pursue the fleeing skater. He grabbed Victor's ankle and crawled onto his back, screaming murderously.

"YOU AREN'T LEAVING US! ANTON IS WAITING FOR US, VICTOR!"

"I'm not dying here!" Victor gasped, his hands tearing at his captor's as Pasha's hands sought to wrap around his throat.

Using all of his strength, Victor turned and threw his assailant against the wall. Pasha collapsed for a moment and Victor scrambled in the direction of the doors. To his surprise, the doors opened ahead of him, and three dark, slim forms burst into the smoke filled hallway.

"Help me!" Victor howled, "He's crazy. He's trying to kill me!"

"Victor!" Yuuri shouted back, running towards him, "We're here. We've got you!"

"N-no!" Pasha roared, surging forward and wrapping a strong arm around Victor's neck.

His eyes on Yuuri's Victor clawed desperately at his captor's arm, his head swimming. Just as his vision began to darken, the burning building creaked ominously, and part of the ceiling crashed down, breaking through the floor, and opening it up. Pasha cried out as the floor gave way beneath him, and he was suddenly hung over a flaming precipice and holding on to Victor's extended leg. Yuuri grabbed his husband by the wrists and set his feet, staring into Victor's frightened eyes.

"Hold on," he panted, "I've got you. We're gonna get out of here and go home now, Victor."

Yuuri gasped as Pasha screamed in fury, and he caught his feet on a bit of broken flooring, yanking hard on Victor's leg.

"You're not leaving here alive! You're coming with me to join Anton!"

Otabek knelt beside Yuuri, also holding onto Victor as Yurio approached the edge of the burning drop off.

"Be careful!" Otabek shouted, "Yurio, the whole area underneath us is on fire now! We have to get out now!"

Yurio's eyes glittered with rage as he reached the edge and glared down at the man hanging onto Victor's leg, and trying to pull him into the flaming abyss below them.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, "stop trying to pull him in. Let me help you both up!"

Pasha's eyes flashed, and he renewed his efforts to drag his struggling victim into the inferno beneath him.

"Fine, you want to be a murdering bastard, then you deserve this!" Yurio steamed, kicking the other man squarely in the face.

Pasha made a gurgling sound of distress, then screamed as his hands released, and he fell into the flames beneath them.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!" Yurio cried, turning for the doors as Yuuri and Otabek dragged their barely cognizant companion to his feet. They staggered out of the building, coughing and sputtering, but smiling as the sounds of sirens reached them, and a sea of police and rescue vehicles raced towards them.

"Here comes the cavalry, _da_?" Yurio laughed sarcastically, "A little damned late."

They helped Victor to the car, where Yakov stood, waving the approaching rescuers over. The first police cars skidded to a stop and Detective Orlova burst out and headed for the four young men, who sat on the ground, recovering. Victor leaned heavily against his husband, panting and shivering.

"Give them oxygen!" the detective shouted to a group of approaching medics, "They've probably inhaled a lot of smoke."

Yuuri held Victor tightly against him as the medics reached the two and gently placed oxygen masks over their faces.

"Victor's burning up with fever," Yuuri told them, "He's hurt and he's really sick. You can help him, right?"

"We'll help him," one of the medics promised, "Just relax now, Mr. Katsuki. You're all safe now."

Detective Orlova approached the young men, crossing her arms and giving Yuuri a stern, but warm look.

"I told you not to endanger yourself," she scolded him gently, "but I understand. I suppose I would have done the same."

She glanced at the fully involved building, watching as the rest of the roof caved in.

"We would have lost him if you hadn't ignored me and risked yourself. Mr. Nikiforov, I don't think I have to tell you what kind of husband you have."

"No," Victor whispered, resting his head on Yuuri's shoulder and clinging to him, "I know exactly what I have with my Yuuri."

"Yeah," Yurio laughed sarcastically, his humor returning as the danger passed, "The two of you haven't got much but the shirts on your backs, eh? Seeing as your house burned down."

"Ugh, that's right," Yuuri said, cringing.

"It's okay," Victor replied, managing a weak smile and clinging more firmly to his husband, "We have all we need right here. We'll be okay now."


	12. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor comfort each other as Victor recovers in the hospital.

Yuuri sat next to Victor's hospital bed, his head rested on his sleeping partner's shoulder and his eyes mostly closed, but stealing intermittent peeks at his recovering husband. Victor slept soundly, breathing in a steady stream of oxygen and with a slow drip of medications into the needle in one slender arm. His face still looked too pale, but, Yuuri thought, shades better than when they had first arrived at the burning ice rink.

_When we arrived and found the place already in flames, I was so scared that we were too late. I forgot Detective Orlova's advice, and we ran inside, just desperate to find out if Victor was there, and if he was still alive. We were kind of stupid, not considering if the guy might have had a gun or something._

_God, when I saw Victor on the floor in that corridor, looking so pale and sick, and fighting for his life…I couldn't think straight. I grabbed onto him and I couldn't have been dragged away from him or let go. I haven't left him for a moment since._

_He was conscious when we all got out, but he got dizzy and passed out on the way to the hospital. He hasn't opened his eyes since, but has lain quietly like this, so unlike the Victor that I know. The doctor assured me that even though Victor is very ill, and in serious condition, he will be all right._

_But I think he is only speaking about Victor's physical health. What must be going through Victor's mind now? Does he know that he's safe now? That his captor is dead? Does he sense that I'm next to him, that I've been here all along? Or is he caught in an endless nightmare? Reliving everything that man put him through? What will Victor be like when he wakes?_

Yuuri blinked and looked up at the door as a knock sounded, then the door opened to admit the doctor overseeing his husband's care. The elderly woman smiled gently at Yuuri, then moved closer to begin an examination.

"Good morning, Yuuri," she said kindly, "I heard from the nurse on duty that you didn't leave at all during the night. I assure you that Victor is in good hands. He is doing well. You want to be sure to take care of yourself, so that you will be able to take him home soon, right?"

"Yes, of course, Doctor Burkova," Yuuri answered, smiling wearily, "I did sleep, just here beside him. I was worried that if he woke up during the night and I wasn't there, he could be disoriented and forget that we rescued him. I don't want Victor to be scared. I need to be here to reassure him. Can you tell me? Is it normal for him to still be sleeping so much? Is he getting better?"

"Don't worry, my boy," the doctor chuckled, "Victor is doing much better, now that we have given him fluids and nourishment, and put him on antibiotics. He was very ill with pneumonia when he arrived, and he was also suffering from exhaustion, malnutrition and dehydration. It was clear also that his captor had been physically abusive, though not to the point of breaking bones or such."

She read the alarmed look on Yuuri's face and paused to take the young man's hands in hers, looking into his eyes as she continued.

"I can also assure you that Victor was not sexually assaulted. There were no signs of that at all, so I don't want you to worry about it. Your husband is going to make a full recovery. I understand you must be worried about his mental and emotional state too, but before we can assess that, we have to see what he's like when he wakes. Then, I will have a counselor perform a full evaluation."

"But, how much longer will he sleep?" Yuuri asked anxiously, "It's been over a full day now, and…"

"Yuuri, try not too stress yourself out so much," the doctor chided him, patting his face comfortingly, "You won't do Victor any good if you make a mess of yourself. I told you, your husband is doing much better, and he will wake up as soon as his body has had enough rest. He was probably too anxious to sleep much while he was in crisis, so he's just making up for that now. You should go home and rest, yourself. I promise that we will call as soon as Victor opens his eyes."

"Oh, I can't leave him now," Yuuri argued, straightening, "I need to be here for him."

"Very well," the doctor laughed, shaking her head, "Just try to sleep a little more while you wait, okay?"

"I will," Yuuri promised.

"Stubborn boy," the doctor sighed, "Ah, but Victor is lucky to have you."

"I'm the one who's lucky to have him," Yuuri insisted, "Victor changed my life."

Doctor Burkova smiled warmly.

"I think it's true that you changed his life also. Be patient, Yuuri. Victor's eyes will open soon, and they will smile again when they see you."

"I hope so," Yuuri replied worriedly, "He's been through so much."

"Yes," the doctor agreed, moving to the door, "he has. I will be back in a little while. I think he will wake very soon, so I am going to go and speak to his counselor now."

"Thank you, Doctor Burkova."

"You and Victor are both welcome."

Yuuri watched the doctor leave, then sighed and leaned forward, laying his head on his husband's shoulder again.

"Please wake up, Victor," he whispered, "I need to know you're okay."

He startled as his husband drew in a deeper breath and rolled onto his side, then he reached up and sank his fingers into the messy strands of Yuuri's hair.

"Yuuri, will you turn off the lights?" Victor mumbled sleepily, "It's too bright in here. I can't sleep."

"Okay," Yuuri yawned, forgetting for a moment.

Then, he realized what he'd heard, and his eyes flew open.

"Victor?" he called softly.

His husband's eyelids twitched, then opened and fluttered. He sucked in a frightened breath and sat up quickly, shaking all over as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Victor!" Yuuri exclaimed softly, wrapping an arm around him and coaxing him back down, "It's okay. You're fine. You're just in the hospital, all right? You've been sleeping for awhile because you were pretty sick when we found you."

"Oh, I think I remember that," Victor managed, giving Yuuri a confused look.

He went silent for a moment, then shivered as more came back to him in odd, disturbing flashes.

_I was trying not to sleep for so long, because I was afraid Pasha was going to kill me if I fell asleep. I couldn't think of anything but trying to stay alive. I knew I wasn't well, but there was nothing I could do. I was just trying to survive. I wanted to come home. I wanted to be with Yuuri. That was what I focused on to keep myself strong through everything._

_And now…he's here with me._

… _or…?_

"You're really here, right?" Victor said uncertainly, sitting up again and curving a cool palm around Yuuri's flushed cheek, "I'm not just imagining this?"

"I'm really here," Yuuri answered, grateful tears filling his eyes, "I'm not ever leaving you, and I don't want you to ever leave me like that again!"

"I won't leave you again, I promise," Victor whispered, bringing his lips to Yuuri's and kissing him so tenderly that it left both spouse's in tears.

Yuuri's arms wrapped around his husband's too thin body and he hugged Victor tightly.

"I almost lost you," Yuuri sobbed, "Everyone was convinced you were gone, and I was almost to the point of believing that. But something wouldn't let me. I don't know why, but I just felt like it couldn't be. And then…I found your message."

He cringed and fresh tears leaked onto his anguished face.

"I should've checked the messages sooner, but I just couldn't take hearing everyone talking about you like you were dead! It didn't feel real. And it wasn't! If I had just…"

"Stop it," Victor chided him, kissing his tears away, "There's no way you could've known. And it turned out all right. I'm here. I'm with you. I'm going to be fine."

"But you were taken away from everyone!" Yuuri sobbed harder, "You were hurt. You had to be scared, and you were all alone!"

Yuuri buried his face in Victor's bony shoulder, his fingers clenching at the front of his husband's hospital gown.

"Yuuri," Victor pleaded softly, capturing his distraught partner's hand and lacing their fingers together, "it's okay. I'm here, now. I'm safe. And…you are wrong about something. That whole time, I was never alone."

Yuuri sniffed and wiped his eyes, unable to speak.

"You have to know by now that you and I are always in each other's hearts. When we are apart, for whatever reason, there is still a little part of each of us in the other. I always feel your presence with me, no matter that we are apart. I felt you right here with me through everything."

"Really?" Yuuri asked, lifting his head and meeting Victor's still sleepy, but now warmly smiling eyes.

_I wondered before if I would ever see Victor's eyes smile like this again. I know we've got a lot to work through. Pasha didn't just hurt Victor's body, he damaged Victor's mind and heart in ways that will take much longer to heal. But whatever he needs, whatever it takes to get Victor back to being himself again, that's what I'll do._

"Yuuri, I've missed you so much!" Victor complained, pulling on his younger partner's arm, "Lock the door and come lie down next to me."

"What?" Yuuri yelped, blushing, "but…but you have an IV in your arm. I might knock it out!"

"Yuuri, can you help me take off this stupid gown? It really itches. I don't sleep well with clothing on."

"But, we're in a hospital," Yuuri objected.

"Come here and kiss me," Victor insisted, dragging him down.

"I haven't locked the door!" Yuuri exclaimed, pushing at his husband's roaming hands that tried to start undressing him, "Victor, stop it!"

"I almost died. Don't you want to make me feel better? I would feel sooooo much better if you would lie down with me and cuddle me a little," Victor cajoled him, "A little bit of lovemaking wouldn't hurt either."

"We're not having sex in a hospital!" Yuuri exclaimed, his blush darkening.

"Oh, you're so mean to me, Yuuri," Victor whimpered, teasing his flustered mate with tortured eyes, "Here I've almost died and you won't even cuddle me in bed a little."

"But…you…I…someone could…" Yuuri stammered.

He yelped again as Victor dragged him onto the bed and held him down to kiss him.

"Well, if you won't listen to reason and do the right thing for your poor, injured husband, I guess I'll just have to pin you to the bed and kiss you until you change your mind."

"Victor!"

"Don't thrash around, Yuuri. I'm all bruised up. You're going to knock my IV out and hurt me," Victor complained, seeking his husband's still objecting mouth.

"Eh…oh…okay," the younger man relented, closing his eyes as his husband's mouth crashed almost desperately into his, "If you're sure…"

"I'm sure I love you."

"I love you too," Yuuri sighed helplessly, brushing Victor's messy bangs aside to see his face more clearly, "I know I shouldn't let you crawl all over me in the shape you're in, but it's just a relief to see Victor being Victor."

"I got hurt and I got pretty sick, but I told you, it'll be okay now. I feel so much better with my sweet Yuuri in bed with me and all snuggled up with me."

"Let go for a second, okay?" Yuuri pleaded, "I really need to lock the door if you're going to be touching me under my clothes."

"I'll just take them off for you."

"Victor!"

"Well, you can't sleep in your clothes, right? You haven't done that since I married you."

"We're in a public place! Stop it!"

"It's not public. It's a bedroom," Victor laughed, making Yuuri's breath catch as his fingertips brushed a piqued nipple playfully, "We're in bed together."

"This is a hospital!" Yuuri snapped, trying to sit up, only to be tackled and brought down again, "We shouldn't be so loud…a-and undressed."

"These gowns barely cover anything anyway. Why bother with them?"

"Well, I'm not wearing a gown. I won't be able to cover up if someone comes in!"

"Maybe you should have locked the door the first time I told you to," Victor teased, holding his struggling partner down and kissing him with an opened mouth.

The familiar heat and pressure of Victor's passionate mouth and aggressive, probing tongue almost distracted him, but he felt his husband flinch and tremble a little, and he broke free, tears threatening in the corners of his eyes. To his surprise, Victor ceased trying to seduce him, and looked up at him quietly for a moment.

"There's just no comforting you right now, is there?" he said more softly, his voice sounding worried.

"Comforting _me_?" Yuuri repeated, touching Victor's handsome, anxious looking face gently, "You've been through hell, Victor."

"You were hurt too," Victor insisted, "I know you were in the hospital after Pasha threw you over the cliff."

"I got a little concussion and some bruises and scratches," Yuuri said dismissively.

"Pasha tried to trap you in our house when he burned it down," Victor argued.

"Yeah, he did," Yuuri agreed, "But…the thing is, even though bad things happened to me too? I always had friends and family right there to help me. You were stuck in that cold, awful place, alone with a guy who you knew was going to try to kill you. Victor, I don't care what you try to tell me. I know you must have been terrified. I know I would have been. But even thought you were scared and alone, you were really strong, and in the end, you escaped."

"I didn't escape on my own," Victor corrected him, "If the three of you hadn't shown up when you did, I know that I would have died in that building. The building was on fire. I was too sick and weak to get away. Pasha was about to finish me off. But it was just like in the movies, how the doors slammed open and you, Yurio and Otabek ran in like that. You took hold of my hands, and it was like new strength poured into me. You always make me feel like that…like even if my own strength isn't enough, you are there to help me be stronger. That's one of the things I love most about you, Yuuri."

Yuuri gave him a warmer, more affectionate smile.

"I love that about you too," he said, his blush returning, "Will you please rest more now, Victor? I want you to get well fast, so that you can come home."

Victor gave a sad little laugh.

"Come home to what?" he chuckled, "Our house burnt down, and you didn't even save my skates, Yuuri."

"Y-your skates?" Yuuri objected, "I was a little more worried about saving my life! I didn't have time to run around, trying to find your skates."

"They were just in the hallway."

"The hallway was on fire! I was trapped in the bathroom…and naked!"

"I would have saved your skates," Victor teased, "Those skates were expensive, and they were special. I won all five world championships wearing them."

"Don't make me feel guilty. I could have died in there, you know. And you're worried about skates. At least, they can be replaced."

"I'm teasing you," Victor, laughed, cupping his flustered husband's blushing face in his hands, "I don't really care about the skates. I was thinking of replacing them anyway. They were getting old, and the newer style blades they are making now are better for jumps and spins. I was just trying to distract you so that you wouldn't look so worried. I was lost, Yuuri, but I'm back now. And Pasha isn't going to hurt either one of us anymore. So, don't be sad. All right?"

"I won't be sad," Yuuri promised, "but I need you to rest and get well."

Victor smiled.

"So we can get to planning for our house to be rebuilt."

Yuuri gave him a little smirk.

"I think we have to go clothes shopping first," he snickered, "You know, that hospital gown is about the only stitch of clothing you have right now, and you can't go walking around in that when you're discharged from here."

"Did all of my clothes really burn up too?" Victor groaned, "Do you even know how expensive my best suit was?"

"Yeah, I do. I was there when you bought it."

"And my warm coats. God, that's what I missed the most while I was trapped in that building. It was so cold, and Pasha took my warm clothes away."

Victor paused at the sad look his words brought to his partner's eyes, and he took Yuuri's hands in his.

"Well, I'm warm enough now. And when I get out of here, you and I will go on a shopping spree."

"Oh, I don't know if either one of us has the energy for one of your shopping sprees," Yuuri said, giving him a distressed look.

"And I have to find a new phone and case."

"Yeah, yours got broken and water damaged in the wreck."

"Damn, I liked that phone. Well, add that to the list."

"Victor…"

Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri and hugged him tightly.

"Give me a few weeks, once I'm out of here. I'll have everything back to the way it was."

The smile left his eyes for a moment as Yuuri's expression saddened.

"We can't really go back, you know," he sighed softly.

"I know," Victor agreed, leaning forward to kiss his husband's flushed cheek, "but the thing about bad times is that it makes you stronger. We're stronger now because we had to fight to hold everything together. We did that, Yuuri. All of us together kept Pasha from taking our love away."

"Yeah," Yuuri sighed, burrowing into Victor's shoulder, "you're right."


	13. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri make a moving tribute to Anton.

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_**My deepest thanks to all of the readers who have enjoyed this story and shared their thoughts on it with me. I am happily awaiting the new Yuri! on Ice Movie. I will see you all there! Love, Spunky** _

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**XXXXXXXXXX**

**(…eight months later…)**

Yuuri woke to the warm, affectionate feeling of his husband's slender, naked body pressing up against his, and Victor's soft lips brushing gentle kisses along the side of his neck. His own lips curved into a smile, and his head turned to meet Victor for a long, open-mouthed kiss of greeting. Their hands played along the slopes and curves of each others' bodies in a wordless gesture of appreciation that ended in a longer, more passionate expression of their enduring love. Afterward, the two left their bed and bathed under the hot spray of their shower, before gently drying each other off, then dressing and leaving the bedroom to face the day.

"Yuuri, I have a few errands to run before I meet you for practice this morning," Victor said, watching as Yuuri picked up his skating pack and slipped it onto his back, "Practice the jumps for your routine with Yurio. I will be along in awhile."

He caught his breath in surprise as Yuuri gave him a skeptical look.

"Victor, you know, you don't have to make things up. I'm not stupid. I know what you're thinking right now, and where you're really planning to go," the younger man chided him, "If you don't want me to come along, it's fine, but you shouldn't feel like you have to lie to me."

Victor felt heat on his face, and he sighed and looked down at the floor for a moment.

"I'm sorry. You're right," he said quietly, "Let's start this over again. Yuuri, I am going to pay my respects to Anton and Pasha. Will you…please come with me?"

Yuuri's eyes widened.

"I didn't mean that you had to ask me to go!" he exclaimed, "I just didn't want you to lie to me. We're married. You should be able to tell me if you want to do something. I may or may not agree with you, but if it's what you really want, I'm not going to get mad at you, Victor."

Victor studied him silently for a moment.

"Do you think I shouldn't go?" he asked uncertainly, "Or that I should visit only Anton?"

Yuuri frowned as he thought for several moments before answering.

"W-well, both of them were your friends," he said finally, "What Pasha did was horrible, but I was paying attention to what your counselor told us. I understand that his mental illness was what caused him to kill Anton, then to try to kill you. I know he wasn't in control of himself. I also understand that he is dead and he can't hurt you…well, not directly."

Victor thought quietly, then nodded.

"Doctor Ivkin warned me that the answers are not really simple when it comes to that," he explained, "I don't always know if what I'm feeling is the right thing or if it's not. I just feel like I need to go and speak to them before we leave Russia to go to the Grand Prix Finals."

"Then, you should go," Yuuri advised him, "I will go along, if you want. I don't have to listen, if you'd rather I didn't."

Victor's eyes softened and he gave his husband a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Yuuri. I think I do want you to come along. I just might want a moment alone with them, if that's all right."

"It's fine," Yuuri assured him.

"Okay," Victor sighed, gathering himself, "we should go then."

The two headed for the front door and opened it just as a deliveryman walked up to the porch, carrying a small package.

"Hi Victor," the man greeted them cheerfully, "Hello Yuuri."

"Hi Micha," Victor answered.

"Good morning," Yuuri added.

"Package for you," Micha said, handing the parcel to Victor, then waiting as the silver-haired man signed for it.

"Thanks," Victor said, nodding.

"No problem," Micha chuckled, "Give'em hell at the GP Finals, okay?"

"Will do."

Victor looked down at the return address on the package, and he stiffened.

"What is it?" Yuuri asked worriedly, "Victor, are you okay?"

"It's from Anton's mother," Victor said uneasily.

The two men turned back into the house and Victor carried the package into kitchen, where they sat down at the table to open it. Yuuri handed his unsettled partner a letter opener and watched as Victor opened the package and lifted a sheet of white paper out of the box.

_Dear Victor,_

_When the police scoured the remains of the old ice rink, they found a sealed safety box near my son's body. It was shielded enough from the fire that the contents survived. These are copies of some pictures that Anton probably would have wanted you to have, as well as a letter that I think you should read. I hope that it brings you some peace. It will not bring Anton back, but maybe it can help both of us to move on. I know that Pasha was cruel to you, but you must know that the Pasha who did this is not the gentle boy that we all knew. I can't pretend to understand what happened that made him take my boy's life and threaten yours, but maybe you can make some sense of this. Please take care of yourself and know that I am very grateful for all you've done to help me through all of this. Your kind words, your help with the costs for the return and burial of Anton's remains, and your presence at his memorial have given me great comfort._

_God bless you,_

_Anna Akimova_

Victor's slender hands shook very slightly as he picked up the stack of photographs and slowly moved from one to the next, studying his, Anton's and Pasha's smiling faces and candid shots of each of them skating. Underneath the pictures, he found a folded piece of paper with writing he recognized as Anton's.

"It looks like it's a letter that Anton was in the middle of writing," Victor explained, lifting the letter and tilting it so Yuuri could see.

_Dear Victor,_

_I know you're really busy, but I have the best news! Some of my mom's work friends did a collection, and we've gathered enough so that I can afford to go to nationals this year! Pasha was so excited when he heard. He made me a beautiful costume to wear when I perform. I really can't wait until it all begins! I will finally get to skate the program that you and I made together. I'm sure I will see you at nationals, so I will say hello then. And, I am trying to work things out so that Pasha can come too. I haven't told him yet, because I don't know if I'll be able to come up with the money, but Mom said that she'll ask my grandpa if he'll help out. I'm sure he will. Then, you and Pasha and I can all celebrate together._

"The letter ends there," Victor said, looking up at his husband.

He noticed a mark on the paper that had bled through where something was written on the back.

"What is that?" asked Yuuri.

Victor turned the paper over and studied it carefully.

"It is a plan for a performance for two skaters," he explained, "It says it was to be set to a song called, _Always with You_."

Yuuri moved closer, his fingers tracing two letters set side-by-side at the center of a drawn rectangle.

"V and A," he read, "Victor and Anton? He wanted to skate this with you?"

"He must have created it himself, after I went back to my home rink," Victor said quietly, "Anton was driven to succeed. While I was there, he asked me to teach him how to do what I did…to create a story he wanted to tell, to set it to music and to build a program around it. It seems this was what Anton wanted to create. He made his first creation a way to say what our friendship meant to him."

Victor's eyes closed and a look of anguish grew on his face.

"Pasha was right that I was a horrible friend," he said bitterly, "I should have…"

"Victor," Yuuri said softly, touching his husband's arm, "You weren't even an adult yet. You were a kid who was training for major competitions. I know how that is, because I've been there too. While I was training for the Grand Prix Series, I barely talked to my family for five years! Look at the words Anton wrote to you. Look at the beautiful program he made to show you how much your time together meant to him. And he was right to be grateful. You gave him a wonderful gift. You taught him how to make his own programs, just like you do. What you gave him allowed him to qualify for nationals. If Pasha hadn't killed him, you would have seen each other again, and maybe…you would have skated this with your friend."

Yuuri paused, looking down at the program Anton had created.

"Victor," he said, rubbing his chin, "there's something we need to do."

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(…two weeks later at the exhibition following the Grand Prix Finals…)

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice said, "our first exhibition skate tonight will be a program designed and choreographed by the late Anton Akimov, and will be performed by gold medalist, Victor Nikiforov and silver medalist, Yuuri Katsuki. They will be performing to _Always with You_ , a song also composed by Anton Akimov."

The ice rink remained darkened as a video screen over it displayed an image of Victor, sitting with the newscaster Mooroka.

"Anton was a talented skater, who I met when my home rink caught fire, and we were forced to relocate to a rink in South Central Saint Petersburg for six months. While I was there, Anton and I became friends. He was so enthusiastic about skating. He peppered me with questions about how I put together programs and choreographed, everything to do with performance. He learned quickly, and a short time after I left, he qualified to compete at the Russian nationals. He would have been brilliant. He was a real talent."

"But," Mooroka said solemnly, "he did struggle."

"Yes," Victor agreed, "Although Anton was a promising talent, he lived in a poor area and came from a family that hadn't the means to support his skating career. There are many, many strong skaters like Anton, who struggle with the same things."

"Aren't there government programs designed to help?" Mooroka asked.

"There are," Victor agreed, "but there are not nearly enough to accommodate the number of skaters all vying for the same few spots. And sometimes, even the help that is given to them is not enough to help the afford the enormous costs associated with the sport."

Morooka gave Victor an encouraging smile.

"But, you have something you want to do to help?" he asked.

"Yes," Victor said, looking directly into the camera, "I have purchased the land that the rink was on, and I have made plans to rebuild the rink that used to be there. It will be named after Anton, and it will be a place where skaters who cannot afford formal training can go to meet with volunteer coaches who will work with them and prepare them for competition. The program will be demanding, but it will ensure that talented skaters with little means to support their skating will have a chance to prove themselves, and to work their way into qualification for nationals and the Grand Prix Series. For those skaters who qualify, the rink will sponsor them and provide for their costs while they compete."

"That sounds like an ambitious plan," Mooroka said, sounding impressed, "and I've heard that your announcement has had quite an effect on that area."

"It has," Victor said, smiling warmly, "As soon as the announcement was made, bids came in for the other unused properties around the one I've purchased. Shops will be opening around to serve the neighborhood as skaters come in to use the rink."

"The area has been revitalized."

"Yes," Victor said proudly, "and I am grateful to Anton for being the one who inspired all of this. Anton was a rising star, and he was a good friend. It is to Anton that Yuuri and I dedicate our performance."

The image on the video screen shifted to show a photograph of a much younger, long-haired Victor, standing back-to-back with his smiling friend, Anton, in the middle of an ice rink. A spotlight flashed downward and illuminated Victor and Yuuri, where the two stood in the same pose as the two boys in the photograph.

The song began, and the two skaters first pushed off and skated in opposite directions, then turned back and jumped into eye catching side-by-side spins, they turned into each others' arms and danced a few steps, then spun out into a stunning step sequence they performed, still in side-by-side fashion. Another short joining led into a side-by-side jumps and another bout of dizzying spins and lovely turns. They recaptured each others' hands, then as the lyrics shifted to images of a separation, the two skaters moved farther apart, Victor moving into sharper and faster jumps and spins, while the light around Yuuri began to fade, and he spun slowly to a stop as darkness closed in.

Victor turned and looked around, then spotting Yuuri in the fading light, he skated towards him, bringing with him the blazing light that surrounded him. The light spread, capturing Yuuri's body again as Victor extended a hand and pulled him in close. They skated a slower dance, turning and spinning together as the lyrics told the story of a friendship renewed.

_**Just always remember** _

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_**Wherever you go** _

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_**I am always with you** _

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The music faded, leaving Victor and Yuuri, facing each other and holding hands, with their heads tilted forward and their foreheads touching.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki!" the announcer called out, eliciting a burst of applause from the excited crowd.


End file.
